Every night, as I prepare to depart from reality (or what we believe to be so) and await my emergence into the dream world, I stare into the sky from my sash windows - to which my bed is parallel. I stare, glaring into the deep black eternity before me with both wonder and fear.


I spot a sea of stars – apparently small balls of mass so far away many have perished. What a fascinating piece of information, I often think – peeking into the heart of a deceased being sounds most bizarre, yet the whole world around us is seething with impossibility, irrationality and incredulity that nothing can ever be seen as surreal. No, nothing.


On nights like this, a totally non-humble creature is stirring in the night sky. Its blinding light illuminates my drab, decrepit and ultimately forgotten garden bringing it back to life again in the process. Real, natural light glows and glows into our minute planet, like a torch – but a torch wrapped in beauty. Unless you’re more ignorant that I anticipate, you know the thing I speak of. Yes, I speak of the moon.
Even the word ‘moon’ sounds foreign. Exotic. It gravitates you towards it (not literally), forcing you to wonder what it is. What’s this thing’s purpose? Why is it so bloody big?


Let us forget that tedious topic called ‘Science’ for one moment and just look and stare. Stare into that rock based substance that towers over our planet like a God. Oh, gosh, perhaps it is God? Is it God? What is God? Don’t get me thinking about that again – I’ve had too many sleepless nights lately, thank you.


Let me take you back two short months. Yes, I was South Devon with my incredibly eccentric and somewhat nutty family. It wasn’t a typical structured school night (not that school nights ever are structured anyway!) – we’d consumed a glass or two of wine and Wendy, the seventh cat, was acting in a very disobedient manner. What am I saying? Forget Wendy! The point is, we all merrily leapt into the invisible, silent garden (the nearby cows were busy in their unique dream world). Once in the garden, we were all thrown back with awe...pure, unadulterated awe. Fascination engulfed our ignorant little minds. The moon was huge in the night sky, watching us with its shaded eyes. We watched it watch us. Huge, white and circular, it stood there, at the end of the rural garden. The sheer size of it created a climate of fear and intimidation; indeed, Granny spilt a gallon of wine over her vintage, vegetarian, dress before fleeing back into the cat filled house. My cousin Cynthia and I just stood, hypnotised by the moon’s beauty and wonder.  Few words were spoken; the only sound to be heard was the viscous wind attacking our loose clothing and our long, hippie inspired, hair.


The moon is an amazing thing. No words can describe the beauty of the moon and the curiosity it invokes. But think! Think that the moon is simply one ball of mass standing tall in the infinite world; it can only be presumed that the beauty of the moon becomes eclipsed by yet more awesome and invigorating lights glowing in the darkness. The world harbours a never-ending line of planets and other incredible, enchanting things. How fantastic. How truly beautiful.

 

By Sebastian Monblat, Ewell Castle School