I miss looking at the moon

I miss you every time I look at the moon. It’s lopped off tonight. Looks like an eye socket on a skull, or a popped out lens from some big sunglasses. Aviators.

It feels like I’m looking into the past, or at a prophecy. I’m not really looking, not with my eyes. Sometimes I see your face when my other sight takes over.

I wasn’t made for this world, not in the way people personify with each other. I’m not yet sure what I was made for. Maybe this, this adventure. I have to be in a dedicated continuing education course on humility. At least the only assignments are: being humbled by… everything. Other people especially.

It made me smile to remember how me I am. That people accept me, even include me, like me; despite the tension I read on their face, a feeling they might lose me soon. The unease of looking at a caged animal, not wanting to spoil the beauty by guarding the lock.

I am happy today, for no other reason than choice. Im listening to the wind, how it creaks the corners of houses and rattles the trees. I smell it too, the wind itself has a delicate scent.

I’m at peace, a little more with each unique unveiling. All I can do is pray for a little more: difficulty, strength, pain, love, revelations and relief.

They are all little moments, you know. And each investment is worth believing in.

I gravitated to honoring both sides, as usual. I like seeing the dark too. You know that. Nobody can teach balance, you just sorta have to tip over a bunch. And tumble, and laugh at the embarrassment. Giggle at the notion of a self that was in the middle of a flawless performance. Scoff at the mind’s effort to make the performance important.

As if we were meant to stop falling at some point. Irresponsible to be so tipsy. Childish. As if we had standards for how many scars and aches freed us from growing.

Im old now. I thought you should know that. But I want you to think of me as if I never aged. The part of me that loved you didn’t, and never will. That part of me loves, loves like the sun; shines life without asking for anything in return, except a few glimmering reflections of the gift being handed along.

Reminders.

Anyways… I’ll be seeing you, on the bright side of the moon.