How lovely it would be to live by the moonlight. Eternal serenity. Ethereal harmony. That time of night where you can turn down the lights, turn down the bed, surround yourself with only silhouettes of your proverbial space. The moon and the stars are just fast enough to dance and mingle with one another and invite you to look on for what seems like an eternity because it doesn’t ever tire your eyes. And maybe the wind is blowing and the trees are shaking, or the rain is falling and humming a lullaby. I always thought a hard downpour meant a deep sleep and faltering drizzle meant a light nap.
Sometimes those things can make you really quite somber, but it’s only the beauty. The universe and your own intimate world kind of playing off each other. I think beauty makes a lot of people feel at least a little somber, though. I wonder why that is. Maybe it’s because there are certain kinds of beauty that exist only in our minds. The frustration that comes from the disconnect between thoughts and words and feelings. You can write about it or take a picture of it, but you can’t capture how it made you feel in that moment. How you were suddenly at peace; accepting your mind as a part of what’s out there instead of what you comfortably know and control right here. Or how you were lulled into a dream; slowly, gently, easily. Eagerly. Finally, some peace and quiet. For this moment. In your head. In your conscious. In your subconscious. Down your spine and back again.
If I look out and I watch them too long, I get a little lost. I find my place out there, but am forced out of the fantastical role just as quickly. Earthly possessions pale in comparison to the tranquility the moon offers. An offer, a suggestion, a plea. Of course I accept. Only for as long as I’m allowed. I can’t stay too long or I won’t have anything to look forward to.
But how lovely it would be to live by the moonlight.
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