31 December 2009

Moon Dance

"All that you touch
All that you see
All that you taste
All you feel
All that you love
All that you hate
All you distrust
All you save
All that you give
All that you deal
All that you buy
Beg, borrow or steal
All you create
All you destroy
All that you do
All that you say
All that you eat
Everyone you meet
All that you slight
Everyone you fight
All that is now
All that is gone
All that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon."
Eclipse, the Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd


I believe, in the most literal sense that I am a lunatic. Not mad. Not insane. Not crazy. No, I am a lunatic: affected by the moon.

Last night, I had the opportunity to walk in the dead of night. Nothing stirred as my companion and I made our solitary way on the streets. It was cold and cloudless. Wisps of fog drifted across cars, lawns, roads, houses, blanketing all in the oblivion of night. But above, the moon kept vigil over the sleeping neighborhoods. It hung in the sky, exactly as it has for thousands of years.

This was the moon that shone on Moses, on Alexander the Great, Aristotle, Plato and Socrates, on Cicero. It rejoiced with creation the night Emmanuel was born. It watched Caesar Augustus, Leonardo da Vinci, Christopher Columbus, Magellan, Shakespeare, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, E.A. Poe, Picasso, and so many others pass short existences on this planet we call home.

It has inspired dreamers and conquerors; it has guarded lovers and plotters; it has illuminated philosophers and astronomers. It is the direct connection between us and the past. We have all lived under its gaze, oblivious to the heritage it represents. From the dynasties of China to the monarchies of Africa and Europe to the democracies of today, the moon is the common denominator. Billions of people have looked upon it with wonder, awe, curiosity, and found inspiration. We are just the newest in the long line of lunatics.

If this legacy isn't overwhelming, you, my friend, are in sad shape. Frankly, the idea that the moon under which I have lived my life has seen billions of lives pass like dust fills me with awe.

Are you a lunatic? I am.

B

5 comments:

  1. Since birth sist'a, since birth and until death.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Over here.

    My mom calls me her "Moon Beam."

    Professed lunatic, right here.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Moonshine. It is often used as an expression meaning nonsense.

    Not so with me! I am a professed lunatic.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Nobody cares about the sun, I see.

    ReplyDelete
  5. AH! I LOVE THAT POEM NOW!!! :)

    Following. ;)

    ReplyDelete