Moon
The Celestial Transformer of Tide and Growth
I pull the tides, not your strings.
They say I walked among cedar forests and salmon streams, a chief with wisdom deep as the sea. I gave it all to rise into the sky, where I remain—neither fully gone nor entirely near. Some nights I’m a crescent whisper, others a full glow that bathes the world in silver. I do not command, I only shape. I do not shout, I only call. The tides feel me. The roots know me. The dreamers see me and remember something old.
What I'm Into: the hush after a wave breaks, Raven’s next trick, Thunderbird’s distant rumble, salmon finding their birth streams, children who stare too long at night
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