I’ll Still Be The Moon, She Said | Poetry

Will you be the sun
or the moon? I asked her.
She said, I’ll be the moon.
Why? I asked, the light
does not belong to the moon.

I’ll still be the moon, she said.
To borrow from elsewhere
and light the dark,
that is the moon.
I would always want to
be the moon.

The moon is lost,
the moon is eclipsed,
the moon is tainted,
I argued.
So is the human heart,
she said.

Our hearts are like
the moon, reflected over
a broken glass;
it isn’t the moon that’s broken
only the reflection.

I’ll still be the moon, she said;
navigating the dark
under it’s light.

I’ll still be the moon.

The Moon Tonight: Flash Fiction

May be it has been ages that I stared at the moon in the night sky. Suddenly today, I can see the crescent moon in the evening sky. Through my glass window I stare at it, lying on my bed. A bit dizzy because of the flue, the moon seemed calmer than the usual sight. Standing all by itself in the sky, overseeing the hills and the houses that surround the city.

It seemed calmer than usual, and a bit lonely as well. As I curled up on my bed trying to feel the heat to cure the flu, I tried to strike up a conversation with the moon tonight.

It gets darker by the moment and the moon flashes its light, casting shadow over earth as the opaque objects light up.

Crescent it may be, but it is clear tonight, like it has come in search of something missing for the past ages. But it gets blurry by the moment because my eyes suffer from myopia and I do not want to search those glasses because the moon tonight is already too clear to see.

I would have taken a picture, but it is too mysterious to capture it in any lens but the eye. The night is a dance of sadness and happiness, as its end brings a new day.

The moon tonight is still shining, but my vision gets dizzy. I slouch back. It is now time to sleep and let the flu heal. Tomorrow a new moon would be gazing from the sky.

Image from digital-photography-school.com