The moon is so bright and full and close this evening, that to look at it makes me cry
A sorry, a sorrow, an empty, a longing, a memory, a hope, a dream, something forgotten, wistfully remembered.
An ache. I hurt at the sight of this full moon.
I cry.
The moon cuts with its beauty tonight.
I felt her pull last evening. Wept a bit for no reason. I knew she was out there shining, but did not see her.
Tonight driving home, the air cool, the sky finally freshly clear and healthy looking.
She shines so bright and so bold. Solid. Solitary. Unmoved by anything.
Beautiful and owned by nothing. Beholden only to forces beyond our comprehension.
Majestic. Ancient. Unknowable and completely familiar.
A mother distant and cold but soothing.
The moon breaks me tonight, reminding me of all that has been lost, and all that will be.
