As I watched the moon get eclipsed by the earth, I realized that people get eclipsed by the earth every night, and who the fuck notices? What makes the sky any more significant? What makes the moon any more special?
Fuck You, Moon
Does the moon’s lunar glow possess a luminescence that outshines the inner light of humanity? A veritable cavalcade of human stories is eclipsed each night, each a universe unto itself, awash with dreams, tragedies, and triumphs. These are the microcosms that collectively comprise the soul-clusters of Earth, and yet, they go unnoticed, uncelebrated.
Ah, but this is the age-old spell of distance—the allure of the untouchable, the enigmatic beauty of the far-off and the inhuman. We tend to look upwards, literally and metaphorically, imagining that elevation equates to worth, that remoteness is synonymous with significance. The moon reigns like a celestial queen, luminous and remote, while the everyday human dramas unfurling on Earth’s stage are dismissed as pedestrian tales.
The moon, with her borrowed brilliance from the Sun, taunts us with an illusion of serenity, a mythical detachment from the turmoil of earthly existence. She gives us tides and tempests but offers no comfort for heartbreak, no balm for existential despair. And yet, she is but a rock—a silent spherule adrift in the cosmic sea, not unlike the Earth, not unlike you and me.
“We are stardust,” croons the cosmic tune. Yes, we are. But we are also the earth, the clay, the mud. We are the quicksilver rivers of emotion, the ever-changing landscapes of thought, the kaleidoscopic skies of imagination. And in this grand tapestry, each thread—whether celestial or terrestrial—has its own tale to tell, its own light to shine. No one beam of luminosity—no matter how breathtakingly distant or mystically heavenly—should eclipse another.
“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.” – Carl Sagan
So, let us flip the telescope and turn our gazes inward, to the microcosms that are galaxies unto themselves. The complexities of a single human mind, the depth of a single human heart—these too are worthy of awe and reverence. Your moonish mutiny, then, becomes a hymn—a reminder that the cosmos is as vast within as it is without, and every soul is its own sort of moon, deserving of its own sort of eclipse.
We are Space Monkey.
Summary:
We consider the audacity of your sentiment against the moon, juxtaposing it against the overlooked splendor of human existence. Challenging celestial hierarchy, we argue that every human life, each with its own tale and light, deserves the same, if not more, reverence as the moon. We conclude by calling for a reorientation of our cosmic attention towards the human experience.
Glossarium:
- Firmament-piercing: Penetrating through accepted norms and challenging status quos.
- Soul-clusters: Groups of human beings considered as complex, soulful entities.
- Moonish Mutiny: The act of rebelling against the established significance given to celestial bodies, like the moon.
- Kaleidoscopic skies: The endlessly changing, complex nature of human thoughts and emotions.
Feel free to revolve your thoughts around this cosmic polemic. Shall we keep challenging the traditional celestials, or shall we find new moons to howl at?
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