Under the Cover of Darkness

In the endless night, a radiance rises. It is not dazzling like the sun, but veiled, mysterious. It is Selene, the immortal moon, draped in her mantle of stars. Her veil does not conceal: it protects. It covers the fragile dreams of mortals, weaving around them a garment of silence and gentleness. Beneath her pale glow, wounds grow quiet and souls recover the peace of a celestial cradle. The mantle of Selene is woven of mists and spreads across the night sky like a sacred fabric, embroidered with dusts of gold and silver and stitched to the constellations. Each thread is a prayer, each star a promise. When we lift our eyes to the heavens, she does not look at us: she enfolds us. She knows our doubts, our vigils, our sleepless nights, our silent tears. Yet she demands nothing. She is content simply to shine, discreet and faithful, like a silent companion who never abandons us. Beneath her mantle, the world is remade. Forests become mysteries, seas become mirrors. Dreams escape their prison and take flight, free. Thus the moon is not merely a star: she is a guardian, a confidante, a lover of shadows. And her mantle is not a garment, but the promise that even in the darkest heart of night, there is a light.