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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The Broken Branch

As the blinding rays of the sun pierced my eyes, I caught sight of a half broken branch hanging from a lone leafless tree, a few last stubborn threads holding it as it swayed in the soft wintry breeze.
The branch, it seemed, had given up, had let go but the tree hadn’t; like a mother to a child it clung to the branch, defying the rules of nature, unable to accept the fate of her child, that it was destined for disgrace and not for the glory of the skies.
The broken branch, that little damaged child, felt encaged by life itself…

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