The Full Moon Story

the full moon

A charming short story indeed

The full moon was delightful as I sat on the park bench enjoying the cool night air and gazing at the people who were taking a break from the rest of the world.

Two young lovers passed me by. And I overheard the woman say, “Honey, why can’t the moon always be as full and beautiful as it is tonight? ”He replied, “I don’t know, dear, but I am glad we were blessed enough to see another one together.” That made me, at first, shed a tear at their exchanged words, but then it made me ask myself, “Why doesn’t it?”

I thought and thought some more. I concluded, how can we ask the moon to constantly shine so beautifully night after night if we as humans cannot find it in ourselves to do the same? Why can’t we find what it takes to remain illuminating creatures when we bear witness time after time of the glorious dreams we have shown to be so capable of?

Why do we so often blow out our candles and let the darkness escape to cover up a portion of our glow? Do we cycle through our emotions the same as the moon does? Why can’t we consistently find the peace and love that I can so clearly recognize in this young couple: the way they grip each other’s hand as if they never want to let go, the way they walk so slowly in rhythm with one another, as if their heartbeats are setting the pace, and the way they stare at each other as if they have found the gateway to the soul in each other’s eyes.

Then I think again: maybe we can control the moon’s luster its wholeness. Just maybe if we can find it in our hearts, in ourselves, to shine with such radiance, over time we’ll begin to notice as we look toward heaven on a clear night that the moon is as full and bright as we ourselves choose to be. Maybe we only deserve to see this brilliance every so often. And maybe only when enough people can accumulate enough love, peace, and goodwill toward one another shall the moon dazzle us in all her beauty.

So now whenever I think the moon is going through her cycle again, I will tell myself, “No, she is waiting on us to go through ours.”


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