The Night Is More Beautiful

Moon makes faces at me for I insult it by thinking of someone else. I never thought that Moon could be this possessive. I think the phrase, “Shoot for the Moon. Even if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars.” is funny for Moon is too possessive to let the stars have you but don’t plan on shooting yourself to the Moon; I have heard it is quite far away.

Precisely this notion, this idea of thought, this despairing vision stops us from shooting for the Moon or for the stars, for that matter. Distance is an illusion of mind, have you ever travelled in a desert? Don’t you see how never-ending it seems, don’t you feel it in your bones? The further you aim, the further you fall. Literally fall.

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Ripple

The Moon had unveiled its shiny visage and the stars had lost their demeanor and to eye it seemed as if a million gems were merely blinking beside their mother’s brightly opened eye. On the darkest canvas known to creation, the Moon could be seen relishing the fruit of its own mirror extant upon the illusive bod of water. Beside the vague yet astral image of darkness, an imitation of my artless mien could be beheld. I stood on the verge of my reflection’s embrace, lost in my fruitless thoughts, when in my horizon I glimpsed a birthing ripple. Confused and restless, like me, it spread its essence to the extents of every prospect, leaving in its steps a memory of chaos and randomness, and its small prominence with courage and insistence influenced every pattern of its mother’s illustrious eminence, coercing her to embrace its chaotic manner.

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The Silent Castle

“A shooting star!”, my sister breathed. I looked up.

“Make a wish”, I whispered, afraid that the spell would break and the beauty, that had taken hold of us and had made us forget everything, would vanish.

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