The Moon scribblings

A short little something that I wrote in three parts. Adoration, Question and Transformation.

Adoration

I had another staring contest with the moon tonight. For hours I stood still, never leaving her gaze while she slowly drifted away from mine. Like many nights before, it came as no shock that I won. In many ways I was jealous of her, she always had somewhere else that she needed to be whilst I had to be content with the attention that she could afford me. As she danced above continents and between constellations I wondered what she really thought of me, if anything at all. Much like the dust that had settled itself on the windowsill next to my perched elbows, I too would require outside assistance should a relocation be on the cards. In this obvious analogy, the moon in question is you. So agile, so appealing and yet, so alluring. You continue to outwit me, despite my clear intentions. I've always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve, but in your eyes I wear nothing but vests. Topping up a tan that I don’t even want.

Question

The thing about adoring the moon is that you have to be the most patient and consistent a man can ever be. You have to be a supernova amongst a sea of dying stars. You have to be a beacon. You have to be ready to tell her of your adoration, but only when she too, is ready. It should feel so natural to do all of these things, otherwise what’s the point? Moons are intelligent people, it would be a very rare occurrence, a moon being fooled for too long. They are angels and angels are an excellent judge of character. You have to be ready to follow the moon around the world, to be the one romantic chasing the dark while the rest of the world seek out the sun. You can never be certain if the right day will come, but the right night surely will. 

When it does, you have to be prepared with the most naive of questions, which can be quite a daunting thing for a man to ask of an angel. It will feel as though she’s left you on her very surface with no breathing apparatus, every second will feel like an hour and you’ll want to join the other stars in burning out. Every atom in your anatomy will scream for an answer, a conclusion or even a clue. This is the moment when patience stops and faith begins. You have to trust that your moon wouldn’t have let you adore her for so long without some mutuality. She’s let you grace her surface after all, she’s broken all her rules for you already. 

Transformation

At this point, you should be over the moon. But it simultaneously terrifies you, because you realise that by being over the moon, you may never get over the moon. You recall the days when your moments together were fleeting, when you were but a flickering candle. You remember that this was all her doing, this supernova you have become. She gave you the energy and the inspiration that would eventually lead to this eclipse. She's drawn a map in the stars her entire life, for which you feel the only cypher. But What if she regrets letting you land? What if she feels like retracing her steps, picking up her stars along the way? You'll be lost in the cosmos, listening to a waltz in the vacuum of space without a partner to offer a dance. Instead of a supernova you will be a candle again but this time it'll feel like a gale force wind is trying to put you out. The thing is, being a candle never bothered me until I saw what the moon could turn me into. The extraordinary was a petrifying thought before, but not half as scary as the ordinary is now. I want to lock the moon away and keep her to myself but at the same time build her the most grand of stages to glorify and parade her. I want to live in the moment and sign my life away in the same breathe. I want her admirers to bask in our combined glory but at the same time, burn them. I haven't learnt how to be a responsible sun yet, but that comes with time, although she is our enemy. I hope to continue getting brighter and brighter and in turn, use that light to guide the moon and I to the place where all the other moons and suns dance, sing and kiss. 

If you ask a feeble mind if the sun comes out at night time, they'll laugh at you and say no. The truth is, the sun is always shining on the moon, it's just sometimes, there's a whole world between them. 

Reviews

[barleygirl]

As a moonchild myself, I admire your brilliance in this bit of imagining & also great imagery. I love how you balance on the fence of making this about a person & also making it seem as if it's mainly about the moon. I love the opening of the last section with your play on "over the moon" . . . clever & amusing, after a long stretch of mostly serious & earnest feelings spilled (all well-crafted, but the humor was a welcome deviation). In my long history of being single (I'm almost 63) & having my fair share of male attention over the years, I can say that most men can't approach a moon in the way you describe (so perfectly) & that's a huge disappointment, becuz if more men would, things might turn out quite a bit better than usual! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Rei Cn]

This is so sweet and​ lovely! An enjoyable read that can make your heart feel warm. Just... Beautiful piece and I'm kind of lost here.

Not too exaggerated metaphors, adorable writing style and on-point emotion. I love them all. :)

Thank you for sharing this lovely piece. It's really great. Keep writing!