For one distant person that may never see this.

I asked fire for the difference
between air and water and their secrets.

She said water would keep a secret, knowing what she wanted.

Air would stop talking, in debate.

The bright.

Aquarius speaks to me of pride
and in conviction.
She comforts me by claiming herself
damn proud,
too.
But it is confidence, I say,
hardly pride.

Though in this moment of solitude
and honest contemplation
I am exactly proud.
I am certain this word matches this feeling
and I am certain in myself.

I am proud of what my hands humbly make
I am proud of the worlds my mind has found densities in
I am proud, even, of my ambitions
that they are before me
and that they require work.

I am proud of the places I will see.

I had not wanted to use the word in conversation
in fear that it may be mistaken for arrogance,
as I had in others interpreted such before.

But pride can be beautiful.
Cultural pride absolutely radiates.

My dark moon has not the lion at its station for scene,
but for the bright itself.