17

Raymonds POV;

I sit on a wooden bench beneath a tree and fix my gaze on the moon. It's fully out and is displaying its beautiful glory. 

Staring at it now, I wonder how it does what it does. How it remains so beautiful and adored despite all its scares and holes. Despite all the crashes and hurt it's been through. 

Despite it being so far from human habitation, we still found a way to get up there to trample on and mark it. Yet, it doesn't stop shinning and doesn't stop being beautiful. 

Some trample on it, some worship it and some like me, adore it. It isn't the brightest source of light, yet it is the most adored. One can't stare at the sun despite all its glory and purpose, but this humble moon remains forever flawless. 

Why can't humans be treated and seen this way? Why can't humble people who lay low, be honored. Why can't we just be as simple as the moon, and still be loved just like it too?

All my life, while growi