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THE MOON

THERE IS SOMETHING HAUNTING
IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON;
IT HAS ALL THE DISPASSIONATENESS OF A DISEMBODIED SOUL
- joseph conrad

It goes like this,

The moon was alone.

High in the nightsky. Lonely, as mortals may be fond to say.

Isolated in that endless darkness of hers, were she was bound to stay for the rest of her inmortal existence. All that one might do, from her position is observe.

And so she did. Watching from above at Earth, her only companion, at its silly humans. Useless creatures, she thought. Creaturas that have, despite all odds, crowned themselves as the rulers of the water-planet. Thet were not the strongest, nor the biggest. Deemed themselves the smartest but the Moon was not so sure. She had never been so fascinated before. They held such power in their hearts and tongues, creating civilizations to watch them burn to the ground, creating art and tearing it to shreads, creating their own joys only to burrow them with handmade sorrows. She has no other option but to watch on at how they destruct Earth, destruct themselves with their useless wars and their irrelevant causes for them. Empires rise. Then they fall. Nature is dying. Everything in their reality is crooked.

And despite the wrongness of it all, the moon watches them grow. Watches how the children learn how to give their first steps and soon after, raise giggling after one another. Watches how babbling evolves into words and words into sentences, and soon enough you have children talking their parents' ears off. Watches how they learn to write their witty, little thoughts down and how to read them outloud; and how to use the same pencils to doodle themselves with messed up versions of their friends. Watches how they make friends and then make much more than that, how they wait impatiantely for a first kiss and then give them away from free. Watches how the anguishes about an uncertain future transforms into hopes to get a dream job or get married and have children or both. Watches how their feet become solid over the Earth and they form their own path. Watches how the cycle repeats itself in a thousand different of manners but with the same undescriptible spirit.

The moon watches her neighbours inner life and then, envious, looks down at herself. The Earth is lucky, she thinks, he won't ever be lonely. He has more than a million children, even if they are destroying him, Earth loves them.

Yes, the moon is lonely as mortars may be fond to say. But she is no mortal, she is not fond of anything.

What the moon is, is alone, high in the sky. Isolated in that endless darkness of hers, were she was formed and was bound to stay for the rest of her nights.

During one of those moonlight skies, the Moon decides she, too, will bear children into this world. But her grounds are cold and barren, no life can lay it's roots there. There is no fertility in her touch. She is no mother.