This is a poem I wrote a year ago and I was wondering if anyone could tell me if it is clear, as far as poetry can be. I find that sometimes when one writes poetry it is clear to them, but perhaps not to others. Thanks!

In the dead of night the moon has all the glory.
Graced by the sun, it burns for eternity.
Night after night no one speaks.
Night after night the moon seeks
For another to call her own,
So a shooting star she does condone.
As the shooting star passes by
No one wonders “Why?”
Though the few that notice and close their eyes
Will have the answers to all their “Whys?”
All they wish is for a chance
To be among the chosen few to take part in the celestial dance.
But before one can notice who these chosen few are
They are too soon forever gone- forever far.