The Mountains and the Moon

Oh, the majesty! The stoic resolve of Mountains!

Sometimes you can just make out a nose.

Other times a belly, an arm.

At times whole bodies, entire armies of giants,

Straining to stand under the smothering, gigatonne blanket of Earth’s crust,

Willing away the weight of the world with all their worth as they wrench.

Their adamantine spirit insensible

To Time’s abrasive persistence.

As they rise, epochally slowly,

Only Moon is of a care and time to bear witness,

To this purest act of love.

Empires rise and fall.

Ages pass.

Entire species evolve and expire

And our giants have but raised their heads and flexed their toes.

Moon, yearning on infinite black,

Cast out billenia ago,

Looks down longingly,

Silently beckoning her beautiful behemoths.

Singing silver siren song of moonbeams,

She beseeches them to join her in the heavens.

Oh, the beauty! The pallid loneliness of Moon!

Ejected æons past in the apocalyptic meeting of heavenly bodies.

The devastating yet inevitable repercussion of a lust so powerful

That the two wandering leviathans of æther are emblindened to material law.

Theia and Earth come together in cataclysmic wanton embrace,

And with a primal, heart-and-soul-wrenching scream

Heard from the beginning to the very ends of time,

They tear into each other.

Earth, rent bodily, begets Moon,

And parting for all eternity,

Moon is banished heavenward.

As Earth, Moon knew love, completely.

She was whole,

Content and joyful.

As Moon, eternally contemplating her loss from the heavens,

She knows herself without.

And so she silently sings,

Showering silver moonbeams of love on her giants below.

Calling from on high to her brothers and sisters,

Her friends and her lovers,

As they oh so slowly reach up to her

In their amaranthine expression of love.

For they too suffer their parting.

They too are incomplete,

Without Moon.