The Moon and Me
As I lie alone, I gaze upon the mystic moon, its pale light flowing over the horizon. I wonder of its unusual powers.
I wonder how it came to be. Some believe it came from the earth. Some say it came from far beyond our glimpse of the universe. I believe it was placed there by a man long ago, to illuminate the sky when he could not see.
I wonder why it's there. What purpose does it serve? I say it serves the humans and creatures of earth, bestowing upon them the wonderful gift of rest. It provides us solace from the harsh trials of day.
As I ponder, I can feel the moon’s presence envelop me; its energy consuming me. As I stare, it stares back. I begin feeling as if there is a soul within that rock. Almost as if it was a visitor, who comes to gaze upon us every night.
I start speaking aloud, as if expecting the moon to reply. “Who are you, Mr Moon?” Several seconds pass in silence. I begin hearing strange, unexplainable noises. A voice was speaking out to me in what must be some long-forgotten tongue. I had never heard this language before, yet I could completely understand it. The moon had spoken.
We talked for hours. “Where do you go? … Why do you leave? … Is it lonely?” I wondered if he was growing tired of my curiosity.
It seems as though the sun should have risen to chase the moon out the sky hours before. It was like the world had been suspended in place, just for the moon and me.