“Her Instruction”

‘Twas yesterday, late eve.

The moon no longer a beauty forgotten,

an astronomic text so callously peripheral.

She willed to be read.

She demanded priority instead.

I crawled compliantly into her light’s bed.

Thus spake; such wondrous things she said.

This moon, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I choked up and nearly fell to my knees. Misty-eyed, twitchy-lipped, diluted-stoicism, ‘moment of surrender’ sentimentality is ever so rich, and ever prolific is it that you want to die, to stop searching, to let go of absolutely every single thought, action, and thing and launch your soul in the heavens to be with God, to forever feel this euphoric bliss. I read in her eyes how small we are. This resplendent creation made me command every gun in the world to stop firing, implored I scream at the radio traffic and television signals and cell phone waves and useless minutiae of egotistical discourse of flappy-jawed infinitesimal human beings to stop. Eradicate man’s false lights. Let the senses rest so they may focus! Cease and desist! Lo, see how virtue shines upon our unworthy heads. This sheer, scintillating, refulgent beauty, even as borrowed from the sun, better cuts through the bedrock of our lives and defines time through its geologic testament of past, present, and future. We were stardust; there was she. We grew into sentience; there was she. Every individual will one day perish and renourish the soil; there is she. Reminding future generations, future epochs, future eras, future species: be calm; everything is all out of control, anyway. Despite what our ego preaches, we’ve no command or mastery over fate, we’ve no significance to the world, to the future of the species. I am commanded to my knees by her sheer majesty, by the incomprehensible magnitude of the truth, by the insufferable blindingness of the light, by my humbleness of my own irrefutable insignificance in this infinite space we ephemerally occupy.

She instructs: we are all so small. She has no brain, but her wisdom shall outlive us all.

I read in her eyes how connected we are. I was in awe, admonished, rebuked; I was humbled, scolded, benignly counseled. I was advised that others in every part of the world were reading exactly what I was. I glance upon the end of my street; I see the horizon end, that line where the night sky bleeds into the trees. The dip, nature’s parabola, marks not the end; it cues the reminder – there is more than me. There are souls, there are hearts and pains and hopes and dreams, there is an end to what we see that is merely perceived – every human being shares the same false perception. Should I choose to rove into the east I will come across the breathing, broken tales of what were before ignorant nothingness. The person on television that is a statistic lives beyond that curve, and they too see her beauty; we share it. I travel to their home and yet see a new curve on the horizon, teaching many more stories. There too exists people beyond this curve, and they see her beauty. We share it. We all live under this same skylight, this lamp of God. If I travel further east, those lost people from some country that doesn’t really exist are there. I look up and read her light. I feel the refugee, I feel their eyes staring up at her magnificent beauty. I feel their struggle for freedom. I feel their fear for their children’s lives and I feel at the frayed ends of the soul’s terrified nerves the uncertainty that they’ll live another day. I feel the gun muzzle stuck against their sweaty brow and I feel the explosion cave in my skull as I stare at and live in the same light by which they die. I, too, am gazing. I, too, am suffering. As are dozens. Hundreds. Millions. Billions. We are one, all born of the same matter – never to be destroyed.

She instructs: she tells stories one, she tells stories all. Pain, love and longing in her exquisite crystal ball.

We beg of her to teach these lessons two:

– One: we are small. We are insignificant. We are nothing. It’s all out of control and not the world, neither even a moment revolves around or is owed to us. So breathe. Let it all go.

– Two: we are connected. When I shed tears at her beauty there are 7 billion more with the capacity to do the same. The magnanimous enormity is a constant reminder; I adore a heavenly light, but share it, and endless joy and sorrow, with billions more.

‘Twas yesterday, late eve.

The moon no longer a beauty forgotten,

an astronomic text so callously peripheral.

She willed to be read.

She demanded priority instead.

I crawled compliantly into her light’s bed.

Thus spake; such wondrous things she said.

Intertwine a solar sign and a horizon’s line for a lesson divine in God’s planetary shrine; she speaketh eternal ascent, this blessed moonshine. Bless you all. Goodnight to everyone – everyone, everywhere.

Tony Blau Veldt, 06/14/2015

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“Doctrine of Life”

Existence is defined by two things: space and time. In terms of space, you are beyond microscopic. In fact, referring to a person as “microscopic” is a disparaging insult to things that are microscopic! You are something smaller. You are an infinitesimal piece of our galaxy, and, yes, “our galaxy” denotes this singular one. In the infinite nature of all matter, this galaxy is miniscule beyond minuscule.

In terms of time, your warm, fuzzy little epoch that your ego deems significant is but a moment, a blink, perhaps a blink’s blink! What say you of the billions upon billions upon billions that lived before you over a span of 6 million years? Every person and ancestor that ever walked this Earth? That ever spoke, that ever laughed like you, that ever hurt like you? And of their achievements and legacy, what say you of them? Nothing. And this is what future generations will acknowledge of you, too, if you mattered enough to even begin to give thought to. Your time on Earth is tiny, it is ephemeral, it is completely insignificant, it does not matter.

This, not asserted to be morose; quite the contrary, it is asserted to be humbling! Our problems and our prejudices and little moments of frustration and ire are so incredibly frivolous and inconsequential. Why get angry? Love, I believe, transcends time and space. Anger cripples, hate fatigues and saps the living out of life, but love behooves us to keep sharing, giving and creating it. We love love, we thrive off of it like sunshine and sustenance! What insignificant, trivial, insubstantial impact I may have on this universe will be a damn good one because I don’t have time for hate’s frivolity. We ought to all dedicate ourselves to ending suffering and spreading comfort and joy. And, I believe, the osmosis of love is so incredibly powerful that, even if not consciously pushed, it will propel into the future like a comet; for as long as souls exist (and they shall never not), glad tidings will be more passionately sought than negativity.

In space, you are nothing. In time, you are nothing. But, within the temporal confines all of the nothing, you can be something to somebody. So fight for liberty, justice, happiness, and love for you and everyone around you. And I implore – laugh and smile while doing so.


Tony Blau Veldt 06/04/2015