A pure pupil of pale blue light illuminates late winter evening and filters down to the sidewalk where my feet are faltering. Wreathed in a halo of sterling white, a perfect circle hangs in the sky around it, flawless and un-blinking.
I feel especially, uncomfortably, vulnerable out here in this crystalline, moonlit night. The cover of darkness is betrayed by the brilliant blue-gray glow. Almost as if this lunar phenomenon is a shimmering celestial lens, keeping watch.
Nothing is un-seen this night, even my breath.
My passage here is not as neglected as I want. Strange it may seem I suppose, but I run, often, to disappear. To dissolve into the tapestry of things and pass unnoticed as my mind practices letting go. Just another piece in the puzzle, blending in allows, even for a moment, some anonymity from the occupations of my thoughts. I may be someone embattled by heartbreak, or someone so grateful for the embarrassment of riches, the multitude of gifts, I have I can barely stand it, I may be someone ferociously angry at the world, or I may be a person inexplicably content and driven, but by the great leveling of the blending in with things, I am none of them. Or perhaps just only the good, the best pieces of those someones. In the blink of one great heavenly eye, I’m at once a stereotype and a fingerprint.
I’m just out here running. Running under the moonlight. Running while my breath leaves little icy clouds behind me in the air, pockets of my progress through these chilly streets. Running to find the someone I hope to be.