It’s an exciting day for a lunar lover. There’s a bunch of rare phenomenons colliding in one evening, and for once, it seems like this side of of the earth would be able to see it. I had ideas of driving out, somewhere a little bit higher, with less buildings crowding the sky. But then evening came, and the sky was wearing a thick layer of cloud. And somehow, given the week, this feels wrongly right.
For the past 3 days, the sunset has given the golden-grey sky a rainbow. J doesn’t notice, his nose is faithfully and predictably exploring the ground, but I feel like we are walking towards something quietly full of delight. There was a rainbow embracing the walk today too, a shadow of a rainbow. But no moon. Not even a shadow. Sedih.
Somewhere in the space of this night, a small nudge told me to go outside and look. Maybe by now, there might be a small fissure in the sky. So I went out. And I realised that I know the position of the moon throughout the night in relation to my tree. And between the branches, huddled by trudging clouds, a glowing ball of light smudged the sky. The eclipse was almost over by then – but on the top left corner, the earth’s penumbra took a small bite from this blue moon. It was no longer casting the glow of sunsets from all places where sunsets were happening, but wore its bright white light gently. In a few minutes, the clouds swallowed it up again.
As I walked a circuit around the padang with J, I can’t help but think there is a poem there somewhere. About the paradox of being in a perfect moment where different rhythms and rare streams align, but something as mundane as a languid nimbostratus could obscure all magic. And at the same time, a heeding to an esoteric internal nudge could lead to a momentary witnessing (visceral reminder) of this perfect moment. And then I thought, it’s been awhile since I could come up with words for a poem. Maybe it’s time to remove that from the pretense of a byline.
Selamat bulan gerhana.