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What a sad place the world would be without the light of the Moon!
The moonflower would bow its head in fragranceless desolation, forgetful to open its petals. Yes, even its perfume would fade in some lost memory of some lost people.
And the ocean... Inert in its still surrender like a huge pond to which it has been denied the mirroring of a night sky. No thrill, no movement, no wish to go and search for the hidden moon rays in the sand.
A stiff, unadorned picture on a cold stonewall...
Yet, no sadness would equal that of the humans who love the Queen of the Night. The Sun would be of no solace—its perfect, round shape burning, and burning, and burning insidiously.
The Moon is as beautifully imperfect as the human heart. It wanes until it vanishes in a deserved rest on undefined, tormented skies. It grows until it comes full circle exploding its minty, round face like a refreshing thought. Its spots remind us of our scars and imperfections. Its dim light piercing the night resembles that flickering sparkle inside the darkness of our souls. Non invasive, it gives enough light as to reveal the glowing contours of the shapes so far fading in darkness.
And the Night... What would the Night be without the silver ball dress made of moon rays? I'm sure the Moon is the Night's moonflower for it loves hanging it in its dark hair while stepping through the alleys made of dreams ready to be awaken.
I for one am sitting on the porch of sleepy dreams woven by Moon and Night, and I'm watching the moonflowers opening to the miracle of silence. Soon, they'll be starting their nocturnal dialogue with the Moon. No one will ever know which of them borrowed the beauty from the other. The earthly beauty of the Moon is portrayed in the moonflowers, and the heavenly face of the moonflowers is captured by the Moon. And as usually, every night, I can hear them talking about Patience while waiting for the day to be over, about Proper Time of blooming during the night, about Sharing their perfume with the Night and the Moon, about the Simplicity of their white beauty, about their Longing for their petals to be kissed by the Moon every night.
A chirping cricket jumps right amidst their stems and startles their conversation. I think they’ve noticed me there, and suddenly, they choose to be silent while getting my senses drunk with sweet perfume.
And I’ve dreamt of moonflower petals dancing around the Moon on the notes of a song coming from an enchanted forest. Magic and moonflower dreams!© Copyright 2013 Irina Serban. All rights reserved