The Man In The Moon :: essays papers

The Man In The Moon I lie on the grass, staring above me, my arms stretch high into the starlit sky, they warp and twist and elongate and they reach up and my hands grasp the moon and its mine and no-one else's and my fingers become a part of it and then I'm the moon, look at me I'm the Man in the Moon and I Can See All, I Can See You, and my arm stretches down and my giant finger uncurls and points and my voice deep and booming says ITS YOU and the person I'm pointing at looks straight up at me and his arms are reaching towards me and he's smiling and then I realise with a start that its me. I get up and shake my head. Then I lie down again and shake my head. Then I sit up and shake my head and rub my eyes and scratch my head and yawn and this seems to work and so I get up. I lie down again: it didn't work. I think I'll stay here a while and think about things until I can get up and stand and maybe walk again. I may be some time. I'm looking up into the sky. Its night but its not that dark. The moon's out and so are the stars and there are no clouds in the sky. True, its not as bright as it is, say, during the day, but nevertheless it's relatively bright. It's a damn sight brighter then the inside of a really dark cave with your head covered in a thick, thick blanket with your eyes closed. But ours is not to quibble on the brightness, or lack thereof, of this night in question. So, the state of the night cleared up, I can continue. I'm looking into the sky and I'm lying on the grass, which is a little strange because grass is not, as it were, the most abundant of materials in this place. I'm lying on a small patch of such grass that is surrounded on all sides by sand. In the distance I can hear the sea and its crashing against the beach and I worry about all the poor little creatures caught in it.