Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Ashness
And I must ask why we never follow the moon rise. Why do we always look for the sun as it peaks over the horizon but never the lunar bodies as they mysteriously make their milky way into the sky. The moon is much more shy about his entrance, never boasting his glory through rays of majestic light and fire. The moon merely reflects that which is present in the sun and like a ghost, appears gradually in the sky. First he is translucent, as oblique and ambient as the distant waves that crash upon the shores of China. Then, in the full Autumn heat, he rises into being with full pink hues and round body aboard. His shape is that of a grapefruit floating in the sky, bidding all those below to mellow, rest, and begin their transition to calm as the dark approaches.
I like to watch the moon climb, climb so fast into the sky that I loose all ideas of time and I find myself lost in the slow gradual creeping of it's ascent. I am gone, drifting in another world where people are small and glorious plans of endless space and time rule all that is meaningless. Below I see sparkling lights, windows that burn bright with the flickers lit by those beings who know nothing more than to worry and pain about all this and that which really never had mattered. I am distant and floating, lost in the now orange fullness, warm with sake and thinking that if all else goes to shit, I will just fly into space to get a closer look at the moon. Grandma says when I was a very small child I would chart the course of the moon, watching it's every color and move and report it with responsibility and dignity to the elders that surrounded me. She told me I was entranced by this body suspended in space and that I had devised that it was a show put on by God so that we would be okay with going to sleep. The moon was my omen that night, too, was beautiful and just as painless as the day if we let it be. I say it's powers and watched for them with anxious eyes, waiting in the cold only to spot it's transparent outline sometimes half covered in cloud.
Tonight I pray to the moon as it continues to bring me peace in moments of doubt. The world still turns, and the night will be alright. ¶ 9:20 PM
I like to watch the moon climb, climb so fast into the sky that I loose all ideas of time and I find myself lost in the slow gradual creeping of it's ascent. I am gone, drifting in another world where people are small and glorious plans of endless space and time rule all that is meaningless. Below I see sparkling lights, windows that burn bright with the flickers lit by those beings who know nothing more than to worry and pain about all this and that which really never had mattered. I am distant and floating, lost in the now orange fullness, warm with sake and thinking that if all else goes to shit, I will just fly into space to get a closer look at the moon. Grandma says when I was a very small child I would chart the course of the moon, watching it's every color and move and report it with responsibility and dignity to the elders that surrounded me. She told me I was entranced by this body suspended in space and that I had devised that it was a show put on by God so that we would be okay with going to sleep. The moon was my omen that night, too, was beautiful and just as painless as the day if we let it be. I say it's powers and watched for them with anxious eyes, waiting in the cold only to spot it's transparent outline sometimes half covered in cloud.
Tonight I pray to the moon as it continues to bring me peace in moments of doubt. The world still turns, and the night will be alright. ¶ 9:20 PM
