The Man In The Moon :: essays papers

The composition In The Moon I inhabit on the grass, staring preceding(prenominal) me, my arms stretch high into the starlit interchange, they warp and twist and prolong and they reach up and my hands grasp the moon and its mine and no-one elses and my fingers go bad a part of it and then Im the moon, look at me Im the Man in the Moon and I Can hit All, I Can See You, and my arm stretches land and my giant finger uncurls and points and my voice deep and palmy says ITS YOU and the person Im pointing at looks straight up at me and his arms ar reaching towards me and hes smiling and then I realise with a out that its me. I get up and shake my well. Then I lie down again and shake my head. Then I sit up and shake my head and rub my eyes and scratch my head and yaw and this seems to work and so I get up. I lie down again it didnt work. I think Ill stay here a succession and think about things until I can get up and stand and maybe walk again. I may be some time . Im looking up into the sky. Its night but its not that dark. The moons out and so argon the stars and there are no clouds in the sky. True, its not as ardent as it is, say, during the day, but nevertheless its relatively bright. Its a damn upsurge brighter then the inside of a really dark cave with your head covered in a thick, thick blanket with your eyes closed. further ours is not to quibble on the brightness, or lack thereof, of this night in question. So, the state of the night cleared up, I can continue. Im looking into the sky and Im lying on the grass, which is a little strange because grass is not, as it were, the most abundant of materials in this place. Im lying on a diminished patch of such grass that is surrounded on all sides by sand. In the distance I can hear the sea and its crashing against the set down and I worry about all the poor little creatures caught in it.