Sinking with the moon

How much of life is enough in a lifetime?

Is life about realizing its inherent simplicity?

Is life an art of dissolving attachments?

Or is life about burying ourselves in work, relationships to remain invincible in our heads?

So many paradoxes. So much light with an unending darkness to it. So much beauty with grains of muck and dirt ingrained in it. So many moons of lives stuck in the nights of survival and defense.

With every night, the moon changes. The sickle, the crescent, the half, the irregular, the full and finally anew. The light changes its destiny, beauty and hides it as if it never existed. I wonder about the turns of nights when my life altered, shifted, grew or waned. Was it a single verse, a few words, the old, crumpled text in a yellowed philosophy book, or was it the soulful music that bent my thoughts and opened my mind? Or was it a person who touched me at some point and threw a sack of light exposing me like a full moon touching my ends and shinning against all odds? Or was I always alone on this dim road of life measuring myself with every suffering, every accomplishment?

I sit outside and tilt my head in submission while my spirits rest on ground.  I see whispering, white clouds stabbing the sky with serpentine jet streams. Today, a faded, irregular moon flickers after shinning all night with almost no spectators. I feel a connection with this distant, cold, depraved mass. It looks like me, etched with thoughts, carved by life. Perhaps it is my twin – changing and lurking, trying to fill its blanks with hope of sunlight even if it makes it invisible.

I sink and clutch its edge. It is fading fast and so is life – minute by minute, hour by hour, year by year.

Is life about finding this connection?

Is life about coming out of clouds no matter how stormy the night is?

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Or is life about realizing that everything sinks – even a star, a satellite and a lifetime?

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