Like the Moon

Solomon said everything was a cycle and nothing is new.  We will jump right into this one:

She arises in all her glory - big, brilliant, ecstatic to be there.  All the world sees and adores her.  Nature reflects her glory, we howl and succumb to our madness.  The more demure just wave in the wind parading new colours.  She spends a week in revelry, yet as each day passes, her love for the stage diminishes.  She remembers her self-consciousness and all of a sudden she turns her face away.  Leaves her darling in darkness.  All the little girls that yearn for his gaze stare and bat their eyes.  They do not know, however hard they try they will never get close to him.  He is well and permanently spoken for.

She enjoys the silence, darkness - her time alone.  Away from adoration, his and ours.  No one knows what she does alone.  I will not tell, if I do she will not be so alone then will she?  What do you do when you are alone?  When you run from your loved ones to breathe free air, think your own thoughts and tend to things that are wholly you.  Things as private and crucial as washing behind your ears, or the morning gunk in your eyes.  What do you do with that time?

She comes out, and every one notices even though she tries to steal in.  She progresses in fourths.  Secretly, quietly instilling her presence in our beings, so we quickly forget she was gone.  Rather we are left with a sense that she was always there, we just stopped looking.  Yet the starkness of the dark still echoes confusion in our little minds.  Our only respite is to look upon her pale wonder.  Let your jaw hang, it is acceptable, look around, see you are not alone.
 
In another while she strides out in her brilliance to the wonder and howls of all creation.  We lose our minds for the love of her, but her eye is set on that one and none else.  "To everything turn, turn, turn..."