I strolled to the outside, wondering what I could do to please the one on the other end of the red and black. With failure to find what I was looking for, the effort of thinking so intently by pushing away other thoughts left my brain absolutely blank. Just when that inability to please was about to push me into the now almost familiar gorge of dejection, I fell into the valley of bliss as I realized there was glitter at my doorstep. I stepped into the
moonlight, too gleeful to be afraid that it might vanish, like most other
beautiful moments in life. I left my foot there, waiting for it to be
completely immersed in the glitter, waiting patiently for the magic to mingle
in my blood and reach my soul before lifting my face to savour another image of
God's wonderful gift.
This light was the one I considered most precious after the
light of faith. For as long as memory permitted me, it had illuminated the lanes
of my memory, trains of thoughts and my porch. I waited for the end of summer
when this moonlight would give life to the exterior of my bedroom, when it made me feel
protected in its halo. But that protection was not the sole reason why I admired it so
much. It had a lovely companion that I waited for throughout the year.
Slowly I allowed my entire body to embrace the moonlight.
Inching ever so slightly into it, so I could absorb all its magic, I began to
lift my chin to finally see that magnificent orb. The light filled my eyes and I witnessed the radiant halo and then finally its source.
The best part about a
full moon is the very prominent star of light it radiates in four directions.
Look more closely and you'll notice that it not a four cornered one but there
are paths radiating in four more directions, like how you make eight slices of
pizza. I know that's probably the worst analogy one could use but it’s simple,
for once. Actually it’s not about a closer look but just tilting your head in
different directions so different angles show the different paths.
When I couldn't stare at the moon for longer because it
seemed to be burning with a blue flame/glow (which is just my eyes playing
tricks so that they can survive another few years), I turned to the other
far-from-earth object of my affection. Venus, as you might have guessed if
you've read my blog since the beginning (you don't really need to personally
know me for that). It first seemed that Venus was in the wake of the moon and
they were playing a game - not the flirtatious kind that Greek mythology
creates between Apollo's celestial love and Venus but of an innocent, childish nature, that is a
shade of their stunning white purity. Venus seemed so small next to the full
moon, so distant but yet in its wake, as if the moon made an effort to extend
its halo of protection to Venus as well. In spite of its small size, Venus
stood out bright and proud, guarding its identity with its twinkle, not even slightly inhibited by the moon. Complimenting each other, free from the envious urge to outshine the other, together they travelled through the fabric of time and
space and I thanked God for giving me another chance to witness this courtship
and feel such joy. Yes, I call it courtship because when I see them, the joy I feel seems to be what it must be like to be in love. I know that's VERY cliché
and I could probably be strangled for using it but that is how I feel. I have
never been in love, I don't know what it’s like: if it’s really how people
describe it and whether Wordsworth was actually inspired by Venus to make a
connection but that really is what I feel when I see this pair in the sky in
its unearthly, majestic glow. This feeling I get, this joy and happiness I feel
to my core of my soul is probably what love feels like, to say the least. Once
again, apologies for the clichéd connection. I do respect Wordsworth a lot for his urge to defy clichés and I can not imagine comparing myself to him (for a million reasons apart from the fact that he was a poet of inenerrable profundity) but if I had lived before Wordsworth, I would have used Venus and then I would be winnaaar.
