The Moon
Howling at the moon and singing to the stars was something I started to do when I was fourteen and took lonely late-night walks with my closest companion, Blitz. We would stroll along suburban neighborhood streets and I would swear that I had a deeper connection to the moon than I did to my own planet. I imagined that, somehow, there were people up there who were watching me, waiting for me to do something great. I would salute the moon once I had strode into the dark protective shadows of the park and then hurry along, looking over my shoulder to see if there were any creepy stalkers following me. That's life in surburbia.
Now I howl at the moon and I sing to it when I casually stroll along dark winding pathways past apple orchards and sleeping houses. I listen as the wind joins me and we howl up at the moon and sing to the stars and thank them for lighting up as faint glimmers of hope for my heart's eye. Yes, my heart's eye, for the silver shine of the stars serves as a beacon, and a blessing. I imagine now not that I am being watched from above but that my words carry up to those who are seeking for a calling. I find myself serenading trees, clouds, stars, dark streaks of matter across the sky. I find myself swaying my hips and tapping across meadows in the faint hope that I will discover some as of yet undiscovered gem in the midst of the usual chaos.
The chaos of night is not like the chaos of day. The chaos of night streams forth from dreams, from other realms and into the mind, the heart, the body. It stirs to life new ideas, new emotions, movement. It propels the old forward, the new backward and sometimes they collide with a sudden catastrophic bang and then something new is created.
Howling winds wrap themselves around the house and the clock continues to strike its hour and my eyes become droopy. Tonight's moon lay half-hidden behind the trees and I knew no one was watching in the way that I imagined twelve years ago and yet I felt a strong connection to the moon and so I greeted it with a wave and a song and walked on my way to a merry adventure, indeed.
Now I howl at the moon and I sing to it when I casually stroll along dark winding pathways past apple orchards and sleeping houses. I listen as the wind joins me and we howl up at the moon and sing to the stars and thank them for lighting up as faint glimmers of hope for my heart's eye. Yes, my heart's eye, for the silver shine of the stars serves as a beacon, and a blessing. I imagine now not that I am being watched from above but that my words carry up to those who are seeking for a calling. I find myself serenading trees, clouds, stars, dark streaks of matter across the sky. I find myself swaying my hips and tapping across meadows in the faint hope that I will discover some as of yet undiscovered gem in the midst of the usual chaos.
The chaos of night is not like the chaos of day. The chaos of night streams forth from dreams, from other realms and into the mind, the heart, the body. It stirs to life new ideas, new emotions, movement. It propels the old forward, the new backward and sometimes they collide with a sudden catastrophic bang and then something new is created.
Howling winds wrap themselves around the house and the clock continues to strike its hour and my eyes become droopy. Tonight's moon lay half-hidden behind the trees and I knew no one was watching in the way that I imagined twelve years ago and yet I felt a strong connection to the moon and so I greeted it with a wave and a song and walked on my way to a merry adventure, indeed.