Sometimes two people can stand beneath the same moon and see entirely different things.
We wondered what would happen if we each followed it home.
These are the journeys Blue Evergarden and I found.
they told me the moon was blue.
Cascading light through ripples of mystery the depths of me seek out.
Searches for.
Rejoices in.
Delights with splendor.
Do you know how old what you mortals wish upon is?
I remember her when she filled sky.
When the yellow gold of day stayed with her past the bluehours where velvety clouds untuck sugarcoated stars to show a soul how a lullaby the heart yearns for is also how we stay due North towards the dreams of us waiting to find their first home.
they say the moon is blue.
I was a daughter of her seas when she was still choosing which hue of light would find its home most in her illumination.
“Know that she is a guide,
but she will allow you to become lost,
but she always hopes you trace the lovesongs of a summer sunset back to a full moon waiting to remind you how courageous the essence is against a falling star.”
Wishes float upon moonlight.
Dreams ballet across a moonbeam.
Sunlit remnants of a sunrise try to stay a little longer to throw its last bits of dawn into the wishing well of her night sky.
I’ve watched every love story rise and find itself as h o l y
and
as c u r s e.
I remember when the wolf was orchestrating his howl to offer what is lost in a heart buried in screams to a Nightlantern willing to usher it into whatever the soul if it yearns.
And in all of forever,
She has never once left a howl, a dandelion fur, closed eyes from a bedroom window, a held hand ready to exhale back to cloud and lunarbreath ignored.
She is the soul of the night sky.
They told you the moon was blue,
But what if you remembered her when blue was still cooling from the aftermath of a burning sun?
e v e r ♡ g a r d e n
they told me
the moon
was blue
i didn’t mean
for it
to start
this way
somewhere
i began
to wonder
where up was
the moon
felt warmer
than the fields
below
everything else
fitting inside
a moment
small
enough
to
forget
but
i should have
listened
each night
the pull of dusk
felt
a little
stronger
moonlight
lifting
me
closer
i never
looked
down
yet
each night
i felt
colder
than
before
higher
and higher
still
climbing
the mountains
waiting
below
i believed
every wing
that came
before mine
the wind
singing through
my wings
grass below
holding something
the mountains call
the wind keeps singing
the grass knows something
i don’t
i thought
they knew
somehow
only light now
almost no warmth
only wingbeats
and blue
the moon
had always
been
itself
it was i
who kept
asking it
for warmth
but now
i know
how cold
it gets
how far
i can climb
how to
find
my way
back
perhaps
i’ll try
again
soon
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Nothing truly leaves — it only changes how it stays.
All artwork courtesy of NDjin Gallery
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