艱難を越えて、僕までかすかな声響いて。
醒めた、澄み切った夜空の盈月より、
心の芯までしみこんで、冷えたこの夜を乗り越えられる気でもする。
泪だに零せない鏡のこの池は―砂漠になりける我が顔―
冷淡な氷溶けよ。
もう一つの月が見えるように。
As I walk from campus, I happen upon a usually dark area that seems to be surrounded by a gentle light. Searching for the source of the ethereal, almost tangible, light I see a crescent moon being covered by a veil of clouds high in the sky. Is the moon something I picture because I will it so? Or has the moon been placed there with its veil because it was fate or some higher power that put it there for me to view? Or can I so plainly say that since the Big Bang molecules and collided, elements go through their half-lives simply for me to pass by unaware of the beauty surrounding me?
By no means do I intend to pretend to know the workings of the universe, however ignoring the beauty of my surroundings, the myriad ginkgo leaves that are my fellow human beings seems like an awful waste. Science seems like the more logical interpretation of my surroundings, but do I dare seek a non-existent or less than sufficient answer? Must there be an answer or an explanation to the sand that slips nonchalantly from between my fingers?
Allow me to be condemning of science for a brief moment - trust me, I find science fascinating yet there is something that must be addressed. Once science has achieved its goal of understanding the universe, what will it do to continue on? Or will it disappear akin to a vestigial organ within us? Will the gray static be helped by a constant change...or will it follow the capitalistic tendencies defined prior in destroying competition as emerald canopies burn to static-gray ash?
Furthermore, born of religion and magic, science is simply an evolved form of the former. What motivates the scientific community to prod its masses? What motivates today's religious communities to convert and proselytize those who do not believe in precisely the same way? They, as far as I am concerned, are one and the same. Evolved - survived - from some common ancestor in the human shared consciousness that I am certain exists, be it psychic or of some other form.
Call me crazy. Accuse me of psychopathy...at least I feel the somber calling of the crescent moon through clouds. Glowing vibrantly - reflecting, harmonizing with my soul as I search in the dark for what I have always had. Blame me for your tears, your frustration, your terrifying hatred, yet I hope the frozen and unyielding pond - no, the ocean - of your tears frees the reflection of the moon hidden and ancient deep within your waters one day. One day.
Internal and external contradiction are alike the moon and the reflection of the moon in a pond. Whether you interpret this world as a mere dream, or the next as non-existent and live for the moment, no one can possibly deny that neither (in terms of internal and external contradiction) exist. The moon is your soul, your consciousness. Its reflection is your self as perceived from others surrounding the pond. Whatever disturbs its waters, be it the rain or the people surrounding the pond, are what life throws at you - be it a gentle 漣 on the surface or a boulder heaved into the center destroying the reflection of the moon. However, as the moon orbits loyally around the earth its image may be seen again in the pond even if from a different angle. Although the original moon and its reflection may change, they are in essence - if not exactly a continuity - a descendant of a common ancestor. This seemingly impossible constant change brings forth creation and destruction.
If you do not want to deny what you feel inside, there is nothing forcing you.
If you do not want to deny what is outside of you, there is nothing forcing you.
Except maybe you.
