Red Moon.

Under the velvet cloak of night, a celestial vision of scarlet bewitchment appeared in the heavens above. This rare enchantment, a red moon, only reveals itself every century and a half, and I was granted the singular privilege of bearing witness. The knowledge that such a sight would never again grace my eyes filled me with a sense of melancholic wonder.

As I gazed upon the moon, a crimson spectre of impermanence, I was struck by the transitory nature of my own existence. How often do we, the players in this grand drama of life, take for granted the marvels that unfold before us? With each passing day, we become more intimately acquainted with the ever-approaching final act, and yet we remain blissfully unaware.

This blood moon serves as a stark reminder of the ephemeral nature of all things. We cannot predict the curtain call of our final scene, and thus, every moment must be savoured as if it were our last. It is a curious thought that in a century and a half, others will look upon this crimson orb and marvel at its beauty, with no recollection of those who came before.

Throughout the annals of history, countless souls have gazed at red moons past. Millions, perhaps, have stood in awe of this celestial phenomenon, bereft of the scientific knowledge to explain its crimson secrets. And yet, they too were part of this grand tapestry, woven from the threads of time.

A bittersweet sensation gripped my heart as I beheld the red moon’s fleeting beauty. Such a moment shall never again be mine to witness, and in this realization, I found a poignant reminder of the transience of life. To keep death as a companion in thought is to foster an appreciation for the wonders that surround us, ever mindful of the brevity of our time on this stage.

Related Essays