What Sol gave Luna, Luna gave Sol, & They gave Gaia
What Sol gave Luna,
Luna gave Sol, &
They gave Gaia
Just one week ago,
though time is new
now as never
before.
Sunbeams bathing
Mother Earth, day
clear, blue, vast.
So warm and
welcoming.
So unusual for
the time of
year, the
newness
of spring,
the nature
of New England.
As Luna drew near
this incandescence,
per their time to
rendezvous,
so did we all.
To dance,
however invisible
to naked eyes, as it
appeared these two
heavenly ones stood
perfectly still before
each other for
a spell.
To spin in one
another’s path,
like those of us
who heeded the
call to partake.
Luna, a moth,
moving before Sol,
bringing her whole self
to his luminous flame, letting
the convex of her dark side be
seen, held, appreciated for
the sphere of its beauty,
its depths, its wisdoms,
by Gaia — for her,
and all dwelling
upon her.
Drawn to this union
by forces far beyond
spectacle — even if it
was what compelled so
many, for the gravitational
pull was great, and the tide
of life brought to this, their
encounter was a rip in the
frayed fabric of norm —
we ventured north
to the mountains
to gaze upon
our heavens.
Upon our
moon eclipsing
our sun.
A mere trick
of the eye,
this totality.
For though she
began to appear as
large as our sun, this
mighty star illuminating
the milk of our way showed
how colossal is his blaze,
for even just a sliver of
his light peeking round
her full form cast
what seemed
to be still
quite a
sunny
day.
Until,
in a
flash,
it went
dark.
A moment
drawing gasps
of utter awe, as
all then fell into
unexpected
silence.
Reverential.
Holy.
A twilight so otherworldly
befell the glacial catch of
emerald waters we
perched before —
entranced.
Even Gaia seemed
to stop spinning for
this moment, just to
watch her skies.
As her moon, wellspring
of life in her orbit, keeping
her axis, the lushness of her garden,
was seeded with a brand
new aliveness, ever
the gift of our
sun’s shine.
Allowing herself,
and all she reflects, casts,
holds, even her long shadow,
to feel from, in, places
beyond thought,
and deep
within
it.
This, this is
the gift bestowed
in the magic
seeds.
Burned
open, like
the lodgepole
pine, the eucalyptus,
to germinate
new life.
For on parting
this remote and cosmic
shoreline, making our way
amidst the millions, all roads
were at standstills for long,
n’er-before-experienced
lengths of time.
Crossing from the Green to White
alpine heights, trickling down
dense forests, back roads,
no cell service to guide
our way, strands of
rubies glittered the
mountain passes
as far as the eye
could see, and
not a single horn
was sounded, not
a single alarm,
nor accident or
incident, all with
out necessity of
enforcement,
all of us still
under the
sway of
what we’d
played a
mere
part.
Union.
For we
converged
harmoniously,
tolerantly, cooperating
with one another, peaceably,
astoundingly, as tired and
“in the dark” as we
all were, to make
our way there,
and home.
A fusion of
male and female
energies palpable
in this extraordinary
divinely attuned
humanity.
A terrestrial
phenom equal to
the astronomical
phenomenon
we’d just
witnessed.
Even as
a return trip
that clocks
3.5 hours
took 9.
And we
are still
humming
with the
marvel of
fresh light
bestowed.
Once in a life,
this time was,
is, and ever
shall be
timeless.
And the
warping and
and wefting of
humankind will
never be the
same again.
∞|∞
Eve Moore ©2024
© Photos: Eve Moore
Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.
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“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix
This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.
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