Moon stories

[searingedrock]

Sitting in the garden in a metal foldout chair holding cup of hot water, hugging legs up under me and staring unblinkingly at moon and moon at me.

Red-rainbow wisps of cloud cover and frame partially pregnant moon in midnight sky.

18 years old, stretched out on balcony with cigarette, watching silent forest mountain and moon, two old friends and me.

Everlong vision of two children holding hands in the dark, looking up and out at black inky ocean and glowing trail of moon.

A certain unending searching peace.  Eyes are shining balls of pearl, glowing infinite mindless wisdom of eons of suffering and effort, and here and there a triumph, a knowledge that you have conquered at least that little thing within, that small fear, that quivering unfamiliarity.  Gazing at the patience of scarred millennia, the dogma of astrophysics.  The movement of one step, and then another, lungs that expand, heart that beats.  The rhythm of will.