What is it
That makes lovers whisper silly words all through the night.
What is it
That makes the painter rush home to paint the girl he met.
What is it
That makes the poet forget his dinner under the rain of words.
What is it
That makes the baby find her mother’s breasts while sleeping.
What is it
That makes that tough boy smile when he recalls his first kiss .
What is it
That makes my lover run into the night when I’m gone asleep .
Two lovers
separated
by the stretch
of open ocean
endless sky
moonlight passing
day to night
Arjuna’s window pointed west
While Rosa’s looked out to the east
Of their love they both were sure
Only water lay between them
Only time would be the test
Whether love could long endure
They had vowed to watch the moon
Each one in their lonely room
Far apart, but close in heart
They watched the silver face
Passing in and out of sight
Held aloft in lovely light
Counting moons
The months passed by
In time Rosa ceased to cry
She had now become enamoured
Of watching starlit nights
And changing skies
Counting moons
The years passed by
Arjuna drowned his tears in books
Slowly he began to write
He described the stars
And all the glories of the night
He described all she saw
As they watched the sky together
Together yet so…
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Every morning, when I wake up and go to my kitchen the first thing I do is look out of the window towards the sea. In this winter months the sea usually looks like a big dark jelly . Sometimes quiet, some other times shaken by the wind. There are mornings though that this darkness gets replaced by the most beautiful silver shine on the sea. Like this last nights. My window looks towards West North – West. This last few nights in the middle of my kitchen window there was the moon, big and round. Smiling, she was greeting me face to face. While I would be preparing my first tea she would be slowly sinking into the cuddling sea. The following morning I came down the same time like every other morning, 4.45 sharp and was surprised that the shining face of the moon shifted more to the west. This time she was stumbling over the roof of the harbor master to find her final rest in the arms of the sea. Yesterday the moon sunk inside of the harbor master building, finding nautical maps and for sure already pondering where to go next. The sea she was laying with in her sleep was calm, too calm for her. She is like one exploring child, needing challenges to learn more. Today, when I came to my kitchen window the moon was hiding behind the trees of the forest in the natural park, more to the west. Making me lean over the counter to be able to see her glorious shining face. Tomorrow, when I shall go to prepare my early morning tea I shall be alone. The moon will be gone deeper into that forest, tickled by the long branches of the bare winter trees. She will be gone into the west. One cannot hold the moon on the same place. One can try to follow her and enjoy her shine while she is passing by, but inevitably she will move further and the dark will return. Until the sun arrives. Luckily less volatile the the moon, the sun comes every morning to start the new day. The light comes back and shadows are gone. The Nature around us keeps amazing me with it’s logic simplicity. Just as Life. Futile to kick own head against the window in search of the light of the gone moon. It doesn’t bring her back. Much easier is to accept the simple cycles of the light and darkness, and adjust to the rhythm of the unchangeable Nature.
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Lady Tamara Winterwolf's Nightflight 