phasan
Cosmic Chiaroscuro
It is not the Moon that is regressing; rather, we, on the lap of and along with Mother Earth, are orbiting and shadowing over the Moon. It reminds one of Plato’s allegory of the cave — light and darkness shaping what we perceive as real. This silent soliloquy reverberated in the vacuum of the orbiting solar system, in the infinite darkness of the universe, occurring as some celestial events of which randomness is apparent, but when looked upon closely, a prefixed destiny of meeting and moving away. This natural cosmic chiaroscuro is formed by our own reflection, along with a complete shadow of what has been our home for millions of years, what has been the total summing up of what we were, are, and ever will be, and what were ours, are, and ever will be in the same vessel or chalice. As the human race, did we ever want to see our face in the mirror? Maybe a lunar eclipse is none other than Allah's reminder to check our own visage in the mirror, in totality. Shakespeare called the Moon ‘the sovereign mistress of true melancholy,’ and does she seem to embody that particular mood here, slipping quietly into obscurity? I think not. I think it is the original form of humility that was supposed to be the ultimate companion of a person, in the somnolent walk of life. However, we are always so easily dazzled.
Cosmic Chiaroscuro
It is not the Moon that is regressing; rather, we, on the lap of and along with Mother Earth, are orbiting and shadowing over the Moon. It reminds one of Plato’s allegory of the cave — light and darkness shaping what we perceive as real. This silent soliloquy reverberated in the vacuum of the orbiting solar system, in the infinite darkness of the universe, occurring as some celestial events of which randomness is apparent, but when looked upon closely, a prefixed destiny of meeting and moving away. This natural cosmic chiaroscuro is formed by our own reflection, along with a complete shadow of what has been our home for millions of years, what has been the total summing up of what we were, are, and ever will be, and what were ours, are, and ever will be in the same vessel or chalice. As the human race, did we ever want to see our face in the mirror? Maybe a lunar eclipse is none other than Allah's reminder to check our own visage in the mirror, in totality. Shakespeare called the Moon ‘the sovereign mistress of true melancholy,’ and does she seem to embody that particular mood here, slipping quietly into obscurity? I think not. I think it is the original form of humility that was supposed to be the ultimate companion of a person, in the somnolent walk of life. However, we are always so easily dazzled.