Disclosure

Tonight is a night unlike many I’ve had. It is rare, for I find myself wanting to write and rhyme but blessed with far more cords than I can weave. As if a whisper from the moon had smoothed its way past the clouds, my heart is cooled by reality yet warmed by its sudden recollections.

In the night sky lie my answers. This night sky, this full moon is to blame for a great many things that have chanced me so far. Aren’t you, my old friend?

I have had the pleasure of three great loves in my life so far: the stars, the moon and the clouds. Of course, I am constantly invited and ticked by the winds, with whom I gratefully converse and share my wisdom, but I don't fancy them. Allow me now, to share with you these precious pieces of my heart.

O' Stars, celestial but unreachable; glorious in your heavenly throne, I think you exotic. Because I can never have you, I think our distance fated and made all the more charming by your winking smiles. Such vivid romanticism you offer me.

Dearest moon, for so long, so many have loved your presence. I too was not spared your omnipresence; your silver gown brought my senses to their knees and inspired these reckless poets to adorn you with mysticisms as witness to your beauty. My kingdom’s was fragile, but I was too proud to think otherwise.

Lovely clouds; oh, how limitless you seem – shapeless and giving, urging myths of your own from the many scattered souls that you shower. You are earth-bound; though my floating soul craves for moon and star, you inspire its youthful imagination as you exist seamlessly with gold and silver, day and night. You were always there, after the moon was gone.

“I miss you all, oh so very much.” I think, making love to this night scene with my eyes. “You are all so beautiful,” I admitted, “and deserve more than the pathetic private worship of this madman who burns his words the way he does himself.”

This cauldron of ink, silver, diamond and silk returns my stares; it offers me silence, and echoes of my desperation. I find myself wondering again why I still feel as if nothing could anchor my sleepless soul, as if I once had everything, but now can only want everything.

No matter my disposition, my loves have always lived and changed with the night sky on their own decision. I bid goodnight to them: to the stars, for whom I will always smile and wonder, but know in secret that I may never be with, if I may only dream. The moon, who still curls my lips with her silver fingers, and make me sigh because I once dreamt.

And of course, and perhaps most lovingly, to the clouds for whom I now give all that’s left of my love, gingerly exploring her silken broadways in search for her cheerful and light kisses. With the clouds, the winds are common-folk, and oh, do they love to dance and cheer. They make me smile, even if only for a while.

“I guess it makes sense to say this here then,” I smiled to myself.

“I love you, you know I do.”

Finally.