02: October 2014 #03 - Half-Light
Authored by Rayna Brown #2
by Rayna Brown
We have a constant companion in the watchful eye of the moon. Its nightly vigil somewhere over one shoulder its white eye ever shimmering speckled with grey, age spots, the wear and tear of centuries of eons beyond the stars, among them. The heavens covered in a liquid amorphous darkness. Blue becomes black when night slides in. The heavens become the depths. The air is crisper at night cleaner, heavier, easier to swallow, to gulp down, greedily like water bottomless, infinite. A thirst hopelessly unquenched. The sun can be oppressive Demanding its love from us, demanding we feel its warm caress. Hot fingers brushing exposed skin, the holes in cloth, the spaces between each eyelash. The blue skies are at once mocking in their defiant beauty but become melancholy when expressed in shades of grey. Our mood expressed in colors, gaudy splashes in the skies. But night asks nothing of us but our attendance. Unchanging in its expanse of darkness one night blends into the next. The moon dances in shapes waxes, wanes, drops a few pounds, gains a few more, winks through the trees eats the clouds, shines through them. The sun lets the clouds share glory in the dawn it struggles to be seen through the blunt white pillows. But the moon refuses to change its trajectory, to be covered by anything inferior to spare us its untamed whiteness. It illumines our varied paths and beckons us to enjoy and to realize its familiarity a beautiful reminder of time, forever, eternity, mortality, of the world spinning forever with or without us.