There is inherently something magical about seeing the moon in the daytime sky; the pocked, soft-whitish orb with its oft-irregular edges, floating amidst the gentle blue backdrop. In my mind it adds a kind of depth to something that I've often taken for granted as flat, the end, the edge of what is.
But the truth is that there is more, and the moon is that in-my-face reminder, a celestial "to be continued," a hand breaching the surface of the water.
The way it waxes and wanes in visibility, with one day a full circle hovering overhead, another day just the edge of a ghostly silhouette hanging on unseen thread, and yet other days where there is nothing to be seen at all creates a foreshadowing of thought. Because it isn't seen, does that mean it isn't there; a quantum situation; Schroedinger's Moon?
No.
It's there.
Maybe it is sometimes concealed by an obtrusive mountainous horizon, or seen frequently with less than maximum opacity, or often visible as just a piece of what you know its true form is, but... It is there; somewhere.
The conclusion, though often cloudy, is a simple one:
For wont of missing it, don't stop looking...
There is more than what you see.
There is more than what you see.
