the Retrospecting-Poem on the Moon

As night approached, the light faded away, and the distant road gradually became clearer.

The temperature had dropped rapidly, so that a little bit of magic spent on maintaining the bubble could be saved. However, I was afraid it was too early to catch my breath. I thought this magic would soon be used to increase the temperature of the bubble again. In short, the heat that I hated so much had gradually dissipated, and the sun had already sunk low on the horizon, about to be swallowed by that huge mouth, but still struggling to emit endless rays of light onto my body, as if trying to leave something behind, melanin? Well, goodbye.

The rough potholes were gradually increasing and spreading across every corner of the earth. I thought this place must have been a place that attracted shooting stars millions of years ago. I thought we were probably approaching the polar region. Crossing here, there would be a different scene, hopefully not so unchanging. With the progress of our steps, the red sun in the sky began to sink into the horizon little by little, while the “blue marble” had long disappeared. The gradually darkening surface of the earth was filled with light and shadow, fighting at the clearly visible edges. With each step forward, the night swallowed up a little more of the day. As our steps gradually moved further away, along with the disappearance of the last trace of light in the sky, pure blackness engulfed every piece of the earth, leaving only the last fan of radiance left by the setting sun on the horizon, which also disappeared along with time and the non-existent footsteps.

　　
Was this lunar surface left with only darkness? Of course not. It was just that the darkness in the sky had transferred to the surface. Now, since the sun had gone far away, the black curtain in the sky could be immediately lifted: and what had been hidden behind the strong light filaments all along were countless stars that were constant in the night sky, vying to throw their starlight into my eyes with various colors, telling me the messages from hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands of years ago; just like my long loneliness, photon, you were the same as me, weren't you? Even if the light would eventually slip away, the energy carried by it must be immortal, and even if it was converted into another form, it had undoubtedly left a mark on me. Among these stars, the most eye-catching was the milky white ribbon, hanging in the center of this colorful sandbar and decorated by the thousands of stars wrapped in it, just like a Christmas tree covered with colorful lights - speaking of which, how long until the Hearth's Warming Eve arrived? Or had it already passed?

Sometimes, I really envied them. I envied the fireworks, even if they only burned for such a moment, they still wanted to illuminate the long night and make the sound resound through the sky; I envied the stars, even if they had to cross tens of millions of light-years, they still wanted their light to shine in the eyes of all beings, even if it would eventually be swallowed by the daylight - go and spread the light of hope to illuminate everything, because it was all worth it, even if it was just for a brief moment. Looking up at the stars and starting to easily think about all this, would it be normal? I thought it would be. Oh, it reminded me of my childhood biology and physics classes again, although they gave me a headache, they worked. Half of the oxygen in my body came from the complex fusion inside that star; that little bit of calcium was just a remnant of a supernova shattered and scattered everywhere; even the lightest and simplest hydrogen also originated from the first big bang at the beginning of the universe, and had the same age as this world. Thinking like this, the expectation of igniting and becoming such a burning spark and the reverie of this bright sky were not so strange.

I pondered, what had become of those stars that I beheld then? Alas, they appeared so splendid, but in reality, they were but remnants of the past, no longer as they once were. Then, could it be that the North Star, which lay not far from the "spoon," had already shattered and vanished, reduced to a dark void or a cloud of stardust, unbeknownst to me? And what of the countless other stars? Dubhe, Merak, Phecda, Megrez, Alioth, Mizar, Alkaid... Among those myriad stars, surely some had already disappeared, and the light they emitted at the instant of their energy level transition had transformed into ghosts of yore, hurtling forward at a speed of three hundred thousand kilometers per second without looking back, unhindered even by the deepest gravitational wells, allowing that final message to be captured by various forms of intelligence or pure light receptors scattered throughout the galaxy, or else dissipating in the course of one hundred and thirty-eight billion years of travel without being noticed.

Indeed, it was high time for a cup of tea.

If one thought along those lines, then the beings on the "Blue Marble" were but remnants like the stars, remnants preserved in memory that had not yet dried up, left behind as I gazed upon them, or chose to depart at some point. The figure of my elder sister, yes, I had an elder sister, but for some reason, my emotions towards her were so complex and unfathomable. Did I love her? Of course, just like every younger sister, my love for my kin would surely not vanish with time – but what then was the other half of my emotion? Was it loathing, incomprehension, anger, and coldness? She must have done something unforgivable, and perhaps my downfall was even related to her, it must be...

Headache.

I recalled her eyes in the peaceful dawn, as calm as the rosy waters of Lake Baikal.

My head ached.

I detested the sun.

My head ached.

Hmm, whenever I thought of such things, my thoughts seemed to churn like the surface of the sea in a storm, mercilessly covering everything hidden on the seabed and overturning those few innocent wooden boats. Why was this? Torture designed specifically for me? Heh, an invisible vice, even if it could not be seen or touched, there would always be a day when it was removed.

The temperature gradually dropped to freezing point, making me suddenly miss the past heat again. Fortunately, this bubble could still barely maintain a temperature that would only give me a cold.

I stumbled.

Walking on a dark surface full of potholes might not be a good idea. I struggled to sense the single horn that seemed to no longer exist, holding my breath and concentrating...

A small sphere of light flickered above it, indicating that the limit that the single horn could support had finally been reached. This small sphere of light struggled to illuminate the narrow space within approximately a two-meter radius around my hoofs, as feeble as the only magic candle in the ocean trench. Well, I had already guessed what would appear beneath my hoofs, and precisely at this moment, the poems were scattered all around me. Ha, that bard was indeed a prophet or a great enchanter.

The lotus root gradually turns green, and the curved water gradually flows to the distance.

Fade the light, fade the wine.

Dripping, quietly drizzle, a few light singing, ripples.

Waving and sprinkling, is the sky stars; A little stray, is jasper light.

Yesterday was the light that jumped away, leaving bright spots across the night, illuminating curious eyes looking up at the stars.
　　
Tomorrow will be a burning fire, dispelling the darkness that should not be empty, with the arrow that flies through the sky.

Go, to the far shore.

Go, go to the other side of the universe.

The son of the stars, unbound, will not return.

Oh, “Go, go to the other side of the universe.”But where to? I didn't know where this anger came from, and I kind of wanted to hit the poet on the head again - hah, anger could also be a good reason and motivation. I had already hated this long and boring walk. Could the future successors invent some wheels that could walk by themselves? Preferably fueled by lightning; probably because of this, I was annoyed by this "go ahead". Well, it was better to write a poem to change my mood. I thought that powerful poet must not have gone too far, otherwise, why would he leave these marks for me? Picked up a blank white sheet of paper as blank as my love history, and started writing again.