#18. The Moon Resigned.

She said she was tired of supervising tides and poetry.
Said every wolf's howl felt like a performance.
Said lovers don’t write any more — they outsource.

She left a note carved into the back of a mirror:
“I was never a muse. You just needed a quiet thing to blame.”

The oceans refused to comment.
Several poets took up fishing.
A committee of stars was formed to address the gap.

They meet fortnightly.
Are undecided on the matter of metaphor.
They keep getting distracted by their own light.