I’m a survivor. And like the moon, I have a feeling it would take a truly spectacular event to keep me from taking my place in the scheme of things, waxing, waning, and eclipsing notwithstanding.
Man has reached the moon, but twenty centuries ago a poet knew the enchantments that would make the moon come down to earth.
You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. Every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate
The dark, twisting clouds that had settled over Vendona’s streets seemed to open up and glide past the winking moon. The wind moaned slowly as it died while the trees began dancing with a melody only known to nature. The city became alive, and time raced forward as the sky warmed slightly. It was no longer snowing.
Go slowly, my lovely moon, go slowly.
The Moon is our local port opening to the universe; in the future, it’s through that port we will sail our ships to the coastless oceans.
…winter crescent resting in the high pine bough – you fly through the woods like a lone snow bird…
Io, this is Admiral Muhan of the Martian Congressional Republic Navy. You fire anything bigger than a bottle rocket and we will glass the whole fucking moon. Do you read me?
Oh, Man in the Moon”
“Oh, man in the moon, send an evening star to wink at my dreary eyes, and I shall make a wish for a peaceful world that spins with no more lies.
Oh, man in the moon, send the night’s cool breeze to lull my leery heart, and I shall cast my fears to the wind with ease, and watch them all depart.
Oh, man in the moon, send the sandman’s dust to rest my weary soul, and I shall slumber in happy dreams until the morning bells do toll.
Don’t punish moon, if sun is too hot on you.