Moon Magic Persists Despite Our Advancement
Forty years ago tomorrow, Neil Armstrong spoke for the globe as an American and human being: "That is one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind." The moon of lore was forever changed. Technology had superseded romance and mythology. The elusive Huntress had been snared.
Regardless of humankind's accomplishment, words remain our final measure. Even Armstrong's quotation is metaphoric, a wonderful comparison for us to picture, easily remember, and enjoy.
Here are three poems to celebrate our changing relationship with the moon. In the first, Christina Rossetti explores the possible range of in-between, as symbolized by the half moon. Just like the yin and yang of our lives, the potential for growth and decline, meet at the precise line of halfness. Will we succumb or be victorious? Will we wallow in the suffering or embrace the joy of the world?
The Half Moon Shows a Face of Plaintive Sweetness
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
Tending to pleasure or to pain:-
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
To perfect loss or perfect gain.
Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,
Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?-
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
To finished loss or finished gain.
Then, ancient poet-mystic Rumi uses the natural phenomenon of a celestial object to represent but an inkling of the face of his Belovéd, God, as he professes his complete surrender.
Defeated By Love
The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon
So powerful
I fell to the ground
Your love
has made me sure
I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender to the magnificence
of your Being
Finally, we can enjoy the following poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Here, the speaker immerses himself in the sheer magic of what technology cannot take from us, unless pollution has its way. I speak of the seeming luminescence of the moon, the transformative power of her reach available to those who wish to notice.
Moonlight
As a pale phantom with a lamp
Ascends some ruined haunted stair,
So glides the moon along the damp
Mysterious chambers of the air.
Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,
As if this phantom, full of pain,
Were by the crumbling walls concealed,
And at the windows seen again.
Until at last, serene and proud
In all the splendour of her light,
She walks the terraces of cloud,
Supreme as Empress of the Night.
I look, but recognize no more
Objects familiar to my view;
The very pathway to my door
Is an enchanted avenue.
All things are changed. One mass of shade,
The elm-trees drop their curtains down;
By palace, park, and colonnade
I walk as in a foreign town.
The very ground beneath my feet
Is clothed with a diviner air;
White marble paves the silent street
And glimmers in the empty square.
Illusion! Underneath there lies
The common life of every day;
Only the spirit glorifies
With its own tints the sober grey.
In vain we look, in vain uplift
Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;
We see but what we have the gift
Of seeing; what we bring we find.
Although we have perhaps slowed in our adventure to put more humans onto other heavenly bodies, we still can marvel at what hasn't changed since we've occupied this planet. The moon is attractive in every phase of her perpetual journey at our side through space and time. She remains mysterious in her pull of tides and effect on the tides of women and men alike. Her faces, in their distinct attitudes and hues, invite the relationship to continue.
Kindly send comments and your poetry to michaeljhoover@gmail.com. Come to critique at The Reader's Café tomorrow night 7:30. Happy 32nd to my son Bryan, born on the 8th anniversary of the first moon step.
Forty years ago tomorrow, Neil Armstrong spoke for the globe as an American and human being: "That is one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind." The moon of lore was forever changed. Technology had superseded romance and mythology. The elusive Huntress had been snared.
Regardless of humankind's accomplishment, words remain our final measure. Even Armstrong's quotation is metaphoric, a wonderful comparison for us to picture, easily remember, and enjoy.
Here are three poems to celebrate our changing relationship with the moon. In the first, Christina Rossetti explores the possible range of in-between, as symbolized by the half moon. Just like the yin and yang of our lives, the potential for growth and decline, meet at the precise line of halfness. Will we succumb or be victorious? Will we wallow in the suffering or embrace the joy of the world?
The Half Moon Shows a Face of Plaintive Sweetness
The half moon shows a face of plaintive sweetness
Ready and poised to wax or wane;
A fire of pale desire in incompleteness,
Tending to pleasure or to pain:-
Lo, while we gaze she rolleth on in fleetness
To perfect loss or perfect gain.
Half bitterness we know, we know half sweetness;
This world is all on wax, on wane:
When shall completeness round time's incompleteness,
Fulfilling joy, fulfilling pain?-
Lo, while we ask, life rolleth on in fleetness
To finished loss or finished gain.
Then, ancient poet-mystic Rumi uses the natural phenomenon of a celestial object to represent but an inkling of the face of his Belovéd, God, as he professes his complete surrender.
Defeated By Love
The sky was lit
by the splendor of the moon
So powerful
I fell to the ground
Your love
has made me sure
I am ready to forsake
this worldly life
and surrender to the magnificence
of your Being
Finally, we can enjoy the following poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Here, the speaker immerses himself in the sheer magic of what technology cannot take from us, unless pollution has its way. I speak of the seeming luminescence of the moon, the transformative power of her reach available to those who wish to notice.
Moonlight
As a pale phantom with a lamp
Ascends some ruined haunted stair,
So glides the moon along the damp
Mysterious chambers of the air.
Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed,
As if this phantom, full of pain,
Were by the crumbling walls concealed,
And at the windows seen again.
Until at last, serene and proud
In all the splendour of her light,
She walks the terraces of cloud,
Supreme as Empress of the Night.
I look, but recognize no more
Objects familiar to my view;
The very pathway to my door
Is an enchanted avenue.
All things are changed. One mass of shade,
The elm-trees drop their curtains down;
By palace, park, and colonnade
I walk as in a foreign town.
The very ground beneath my feet
Is clothed with a diviner air;
White marble paves the silent street
And glimmers in the empty square.
Illusion! Underneath there lies
The common life of every day;
Only the spirit glorifies
With its own tints the sober grey.
In vain we look, in vain uplift
Our eyes to heaven, if we are blind;
We see but what we have the gift
Of seeing; what we bring we find.
Although we have perhaps slowed in our adventure to put more humans onto other heavenly bodies, we still can marvel at what hasn't changed since we've occupied this planet. The moon is attractive in every phase of her perpetual journey at our side through space and time. She remains mysterious in her pull of tides and effect on the tides of women and men alike. Her faces, in their distinct attitudes and hues, invite the relationship to continue.
Kindly send comments and your poetry to michaeljhoover@gmail.com. Come to critique at The Reader's Café tomorrow night 7:30. Happy 32nd to my son Bryan, born on the 8th anniversary of the first moon step.
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