Walking out towards the bus in the evening
taking a seat right by the window
Tilting my head subconsciously towards the beautiful skies
Its hardly dark out yet, actually its brighter than usual.
Up there looking right back at me is the largest moon I’ve seen in my lifetime
It’s full, larger, brighter and to me earlier than usual
Seems like everything is a new experience my entire life well it’s still occurring so yeah entire life is correct
Age seems to not have enough time for me to experience all I should at intervals.
Facing each other a thought, no actually a couple of thoughts cross my mind
The people that must think I’m a strange being watching the skies for too long
Someone must wonder if my neck hurts in that position by now or another questioning my sanity vs my curiosity or if its just a state of shyness
In all that time love lingers in my mind too, in my soul too, in my heart too
Thinking of love intertwined by my already experienced phases of my past and current life and hopefully of the next life I’m about to plunge into,
The moon in many ways is love to me, the way it watches me, us
Our entire being in phases, year after year, months on end, on days when its visible or invincible to us.
I notice how it seems to follow me as the bus moves,
as I get out of the bus and move on by foot towards home
towards my object of affection waiting
or maybe whose also on their way towards that home.
Its way above me
Now by my side but still far off
Sometimes its way up ahead
Its a full Moon
Its a waning Gibbous phase
or just maybe a quarter Moon
Well that knowledge of its phase minus the scientific names occurred to me in love terms.
My perspective of love is constant and growing all at once, in a package
What I mean is love doesn’t change its original nature, it grows within that nature
Like the moon its phases occur differently to our human form, perspective, nature
Like the moon it never really fades away despite statistics it only grows to a phase we do or do not recognise or cannot define in our being, human nature
It seems blindingly bright at a time so insurmountable in form
It seems gibbous, undefined yet very present
or just maybe quarter phase, fading
Sometimes even invincible.
Through this walk, by this walk I realise
Its always present, in its invincibility the sun rises brighter
In its rise the sun sets beautifully so
Whose to say the moon and the sun aren’t love!?
Whose to prove like both these miracles, love won’t rise or glow again
Season after season, rain or snow we will always have the sun
we will always have the moon
We will always have love in all its nature,
We may not know how to define it or understand the growth by which it appears but that does not mean that it is absent, it’s a season a phase by which it grows and grows it must , that like the moon is it’s nature.