His journey is not a reflection of the moon. It is the moon itself. He is not separate from this quest. It is his dharma, his path, his voice. It is not a bead on a mala, not a veil to remove. It is the cooperation of elements, the marriage of spirit and flesh. It is the shadow of faith, the reflection of being. It is the full metaphor. It is all there is.

The bright side of the moon could not exist without the half wrapped in shadow. A half-life is not substantial, not sustainable. You cannot cut out half your heart and live.

The moon casts a different face everyday. Yet the moon is always the moon. It is always whole. Always reflective.

The moon speaks in slivers and halves.