Last night she smiled in the sky over Kharkiv, her face beguiled in an enchanting glow that brimmed with midsummer energy and manic moonlit madness at midnight.
The air raid siren sounded its clarion call, but she paid it no mind. Nothing could distract her from her own beauty, and her soft, overwhelming love for the world below. Nothing could distract her from the moment, and her heart’s longing for experience. The air raid siren had no choice but to be completely absorbed by her eternal chorus, just another background character in her eternal play on the world stage.
She wasn’t even full yet, but her beauty outshined the stars and the light of a dying sun. Tonight she will be even fuller. Tomorrow she will be fuller still. I can’t even imagine a more beautiful tomorrow than seeing a near-full moon gazing down at me from the vast expanse, pregnant with possibility.
Sickeningly saccharine and sinisterly sweet, her honey drips down into the mead she serves the world at midnight. No one can refuse her. Her madness is intoxicating, her allure inescapable. Her love is inevitable, her will indomitable. And yet she is quiet and reposed. She witnesses the world silently, that shimmering smile her only word.
On Friday, it will be the summer solstice and the full moon. I will be going to a wedding. I think it’s going to be an interesting day…
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