Dinosaur With Headphones

I saw the moon alone last night.

I was listening to "Invisible City" by The Wallflowers on repeat, sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I watched the shining moon sit high and still as a thin veil of clouds mistily kissed its way through the lit air. The clouds were clinging to the light of the moon like reverent worshippers surrounding their beloved but not disturbing. And far down below it all was a black ocean, with a field of diamonds sparkling off the crests of the waves. The ocean looked like a flawless friend.

The light of the moon is a gorgeous thing. But, of course, that light belongs to the sun, not to the clouds that worship it or the ocean waves that consume it.

The moon is beautiful, but it doesn't belong to the cloudy man who sits and watches it shine with his heart full of love for every side of it, its light and its dark. The moon does not belong to anything, even though it wears the sun's dress and dances with the earth. The moon does not love the earth, but it helps the earth raise the ocean. The moon is alone and always leaving. The clouds chase it and cannot reach it.

I saw the moon alone last night.