The speaker is worn out by feeling like the moon: dark, scarred, and stuck. The word "cursedly" stands out, because it makes this feel less like a mood and more like a sentence handed down. The moon is cratered and shines only when something else lights it, so the speaker seems to feel damaged and dependent, never glowing on their own terms.
Then the poem turns. "I want to be light" and "I want to be whole" come in short, plain lines, almost like a prayer said twice. The last line asks for something bigger: to be the sun, a source of light rather than a reflection of it. The phrase "this time around" hints at a wish for another chance, perhaps another life, or at least a fresh start. The mood is weary but hopeful. It begins in heaviness and ends in a quiet, stubborn longing to burn bright.