The Man In The Moon :: essays papers

The Man In The Moon I lie on the grass, gazing above me, my arms stretch high into the twilight sky, they twist and turn and lengthen and they reach up and my hands handle the moon and its mine and nobody else's and my fingers become a piece of it and afterward I'm the moon, see me I'm the Man in the Moon and I Can See All, I Can See You, and my arm extends down and my goliath finger uncurls and focuses and my voice profound and blasting says ITS YOU and the individual I'm pointing at gazes directly toward me and his arms are coming to towards me and he's grinning and afterward I understand with a beginning that its me. I get up and shake my head. At that point I rests again and shake my head. At that point I sit up and shake my head and rub my eyes and scratch my head and yawn and this appears to work thus I get up. I rests once more: it didn't work. I think I'll remain here some time and consider things until I can get up and stand and perhaps walk once more. I might be some time. I'm turning upward into the sky. Its night however it isn't so dim. The moon's out as are the stars and there are no mists in the sky. Valid, its not as splendid as it seems to be, say, during the day, yet by the by it's moderately brilliant. It's a damn sight more splendid then within an extremely dull cavern with your head shrouded in a thick, thick cover with your eyes shut. Yet, our own isn't to bandy on the brilliance, or deficiency in that department, of this night being referred to. Along these lines, the condition of the night cleared up, I can proceed. I'm investigating the sky and I'm lying on the grass, which is somewhat peculiar in light of the fact that grass isn't, so to speak, the most plenteous of materials in this spot. I'm lying on a little fix of such grass that is encircled on all sides by sand. Out there I can hear the ocean and its running into the sea shore and I stress over all the poor little animals trapped in it.