The Remembrance of Things Imperfect – The Moon


It is the middle of a warm summer night.
I am running down the stairs,
quickly and excitedly,
with my neighbours following me.
We all want to see the Moon.

Mystery of the Night

It just fell down in the front yard.
I saw it coming down,
like an unwashed potato,
peppering the sky
with flecks of dirt.

There it is,
lying on the ground,
a giant spud
scrubbed clean, polished
by air’s friction.

A cauldron of bats
circle round it,
squeaking at this strange visitor.
I approach it warily.

It is ice-cold and firm to touch, yet springy too.
It sparkles in the full moon’s light,
like a tuber wrought out of silver.

I wait for it to reveal
the mystery of the night,
but the Moon remains
stubbornly silent
as it has always been through the eons.

I remember well
the comical expressions of puzzlement
on the faces of my neighbours,
and waves of ineffable wonder
washing over me.

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BORIS GLIKMAN is a writer, poet and philosopher from Melbourne, Australia. His stories, poems and non-fiction articles have been published in various online and print publications, as well as being featured on national radio and other radio programs. He says: “Writing for me is a spiritual activity of the highest degree. Writing gives me the conduit to a world that is unreachable by any other means, a world that is populated by Eternal Truths, Ineffable Questions and Infinite Beauty. It is my hope that these stories of mine will allow the reader to also catch a glimpse of this universe.”

Artist credit: Alicia Pacheco AKA Kuro

You can read more articles like this in the Opal Rising Magazine

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