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REFLECTIONS OF THE MOON AND I
The garden scantily lit by the distant crimson-crescent moon; intuitively I knew it was about to bid me farewell. Soon the moon will be travelling to the other side never to be seen for another season.
“Let us make the best out of this last encounter”, I said; staring the moon straight into the eyes.
Suddenly, a somber mood enveloped me, a melancholic feeling to last a season.
Shhhhh! Don’t say a word I said, just listen. “You have witnessed in silence my past joys at times sobbed together till dawn. I want to confess that my soul will no longer endure ebbing tides and turbulence; crevices of my soul are mended.
Perhaps in our next encounter you might not recognise me, for I shall have undergone an extreme transformation. I shall have grown spiritually. I shall have sought, found and learnt to love again. I shall have asked for forgiveness from the myriad hearts shuttered, and all dreams buried alive resurrected.
In our next encounter I shall be smiling a lot, wrinkles of pain and sadness evaporated with time.
We’ve been friends for quite a while now, kept each other company almost every night - a pilgrimage in the garden.
Our conversations mostly silent, at times loud monologues which I wonder whether you’ve heard or chose to ignore.
I remember the night when you were accidentally pelted by shooting stars, almost blinded by the onslaught. Luckily you were not hurt; well except for your ego. That night you hardly spoke. It was a night of long knives, double edged swords drawn ready to impale. Fortunately, I was able to disarm your intentions, flaring temper tamed.
On your return, I shall have re-united with my soul mate, chasms of hate, distrust and hurt narrowed. Perhaps we shall have even walked down the isle. It was you who said true love always triumphs. I am beginning to believe you”.
These are memories of a peculiar and at times incomprehensible friendship. All I know is that it’s a brief farewell. The pilgrimage will commence again. For now the garden will go silent for the last embrace, deep reflections of the moon and I.
© Ezrom Maromo wa Sekgobela
“Let us make the best out of this last encounter”, I said; staring the moon straight into the eyes.
Suddenly, a somber mood enveloped me, a melancholic feeling to last a season.
Shhhhh! Don’t say a word I said, just listen. “You have witnessed in silence my past joys at times sobbed together till dawn. I want to confess that my soul will no longer endure ebbing tides and turbulence; crevices of my soul are mended.
Perhaps in our next encounter you might not recognise me, for I shall have undergone an extreme transformation. I shall have grown spiritually. I shall have sought, found and learnt to love again. I shall have asked for forgiveness from the myriad hearts shuttered, and all dreams buried alive resurrected.
In our next encounter I shall be smiling a lot, wrinkles of pain and sadness evaporated with time.
We’ve been friends for quite a while now, kept each other company almost every night - a pilgrimage in the garden.
Our conversations mostly silent, at times loud monologues which I wonder whether you’ve heard or chose to ignore.
I remember the night when you were accidentally pelted by shooting stars, almost blinded by the onslaught. Luckily you were not hurt; well except for your ego. That night you hardly spoke. It was a night of long knives, double edged swords drawn ready to impale. Fortunately, I was able to disarm your intentions, flaring temper tamed.
On your return, I shall have re-united with my soul mate, chasms of hate, distrust and hurt narrowed. Perhaps we shall have even walked down the isle. It was you who said true love always triumphs. I am beginning to believe you”.
These are memories of a peculiar and at times incomprehensible friendship. All I know is that it’s a brief farewell. The pilgrimage will commence again. For now the garden will go silent for the last embrace, deep reflections of the moon and I.
© Ezrom Maromo wa Sekgobela
