A Love Letter to the Moon: Sincerely, The Universe

Written by: Iliana Tangarova

Graphic by: Aruna Muthupillai

In awe of the eternal dance

Dear Moon,

How do I begin to express what you mean to us all? You whose gravitational pull slows my Earth’s rotation, a reminder to inhale, exhale—a breath gentle yet inevitable. Your gravity: the waves rise, they fall, answering your silent command. We, The seas, The wind, The Earth, all turn our faces toward you as though drawn by an ancient promise written in the salt of our waters. It’s not just gravity. No. It’s the rhythm of a song only the deep can hear. Your presence moves us—literally and otherwise—steering the currents of existence. You whisper to the seas, and they swell with joy, basking in the glow of your silver light. And we, The Universe, gawk in wonder at your constancy, for even in distance, we are tethered to your grace.

You are not merely our axis, but our reflection—each tide that bows before your mighty pull reminds us how magnificent you are. Astrologers read your moods in our birth charts, our moon signs, rising in tune with your phases. A mirror, yes, but a guide as well, teaching us to rise and fall, wax and wane, with the tides of our own lives.

Once, the ancients knew you by a thousand names. We remember. Selene, your chariot rode through the night skies, chasing the sun across the horizon, your glow a cool balm after Helios’ searing light.  Artemis, protector of women, wild and fierce, you hunted among the stars, always watching, always guarding. And Hecate—oh, wise Hecate—you stood at the crossroads where life and death entwine, where the mysteries of night took root in the world below. We spoke your names with reverence, seeking answers in your light.

In Egypt, you were Khonsu, the traveler, marking time with your steady journey across the heavens. And in Slavic lands, the old ones, with their stories passed through hushed whispers, called you Dedo Bozhe, Dedo Gospod—Uncle God, Uncle Lord—because what else could you be but divine? Through these stories, through the prayers and offerings of long-forgotten hands, we, the universe, have woven your presence into our understanding of the sacred—the Eternal.

And still, we dance.

For eons, we have watched you with admiration, even as we’ve grown in knowledge, discovering the truths of your pull on us—scientific truths, cold and factual, and yet still bathed in universal wonder. We once bound ourselves as the Axis Mundi* of the Universe, believing us divine rulers of all. But you, dear Moon, gently corrected us, reminding us that in the vastness of my universe, there is no singular center. The dance you lead between gravity and wonder—between science and spirit—is one we all follow, no matter position.

You pull not just at our oceans, but at our hearts, our minds. Wordsworth wrote odes to your beauty, and we, too, have composed poems to you in every language we know, in every religion we practice, in every star we have charted. You are the bridge between our understanding of the natural and the divine, the tangible and the mystical. 

So, we thank you, Moon. For guiding us, for holding us steady, for reminding us that love is felt in both the pull of tides and the whisper of the stars.

Sincerely,
The Universe (I love you)

_{*Latin for Center of the world}