Luna, Astra

The moon, the stars, and light pollution.

Back at the time when
I still let my snot reach my upper lip,
I would sit on the low wall that held
the earth of the garden
(or what remains of it)
to the wall of our small home
and look up to see
the moon and her lovely children.

The moon would always radiate
a warm sterling light
that would always attract me
to just look up and stare.
I would also see the cracks on her face.
No matte how far she is,
I could always make out how big her pimple marks were.

I muse at the way the stars are scattered.

Some were big.
Some were small.
Some were in groups.
Some were alone.
Some shone brightly.
Others got out-shined.
Some were stationary.
Others were moving.
Still, others were falling down,
as if tired from staying up there all night.

I have never seen one fall out of exhaustion, though.

I would stay there, look up
and admire the way the moon and her lovely children
light up the dark streets that make them both
scary and seductive.
I would stay there, look up
until my neck becomes sore and
I smell the delicious smell of dinner.

I would look at the moon and bid her big family
good night as I join my own.

Nowadays, it's a different story.

I never let my snot reach my upper lip.
I live alone in the dormitory.
My family lives a province away from the city where I study.
I am constantly surrounded by the bright lights of the city.
I am living a life that is questioned by Heidegger's 1951 paper.

The moon no longer radiates a warm silver light.
She mourns.
A screaming, wallowing yellow hue.

She no longer has her children with her.

The bright city lights took them away from her.

Author's Note

It's pretty much about light pollution. And a bit of family. And a teeny tiny bit of philosophy. Philosophy is a fun and interesting subject to study. You just need a good professor.