Sometimes, the moon is really bright, But sometimes he's just gone like tonight. He used to be my best friend, my signpost that could never end. Then he was my listener but he couldn't respond therefore my words became only whisperes. And tonight he is completely gone, just like many other nights but I am just not as strong. I know he comes back beacause he always does but still there's this hole that can't be stuffed. Back then he never missed a night, now the sky seems to forget my nightlight. Without his light I can't get the voices out of my mind. The voices that are so loud, The voices that are so bright, The voices that don't care that there isn't any light. When he then comes back, I sit down and ask myself: "Is there really any value to this thing we call living?" If everything is only voices and shadows maybe the value is to dance with life until it wears us down and we start to ask why. Now you may be thinking what we are asking but if there is a chance of a tomorrow we should go out, look at the moon tonight and see him as our signpost, our listener, And our nightlight.