My Red Moon

I sat in the dark of night, caressed by the gentle breeze, and letting soft and loving words bathe my ears. The Balsam of Gilead her voice was to me, as I gazed upon the bloodied moon.  How often these moments will pass between us, I do not know.  Will this be the last?  Perhaps.  But it does not keep me from cherishing what time we have together.

How incredibly rare the red moon is, coming when it’s least expected, and fleeting like a shooting star.  But there it stood against my sky, intoxicating in its own right.  And so I was beholden to it, captivated by its beauty, and unaware of it coming retreat. Even at that I can’t say that I was truly unaware, for as are all things so rare and beautiful, it was bound to last but a moment.

There the moon hung against its darkened backdrop, looking back at me with a familiar but distant gaze, smiling at me one last time in equal parts sorrow and fondness, as the eclipsing shadow overtook my lover’s face.  With agonizing precision and care, she disappeared from me, wrenched from my grasp and leaving a void of blackness and pain.  Inch by inch the veil crept until all was blocked from my sight.

The cool night air no longer felt good to me, but was now chill and heartless, wrapping icy fingers of anguish around my heart.  Desperately I did look to the sky hoping for a glimpse of my beloved.  But there hung a vacuum where once her face had shone, obscured from me, though I know she’s still there.

My moon has gone away, no longer for me to look upon.  Though my love has not yet faded, it is no longer mine to give.