the Retrospecting-Poem on the Moon

There, repeating the cycle anew.

The long road ahead held few surprises. After traversing a lengthy journey, I once again found myself in the sweltering heat beneath the loathed sun. Goodbye, distant stars, although you remained, I could no longer glimpse the golden threads of light you emitted.

I could only hear the thumping of my heartbeat and the gentle thud of my footsteps on the ground, and there was nothing else, perhaps if I calmed my mind, I could still feel the flow of blood. I looked up at the sky that had once again been swallowed by darkness, and then at the moon's surface that had become clear in the sunlight - without surprise, it was still gray and boundless.

Oh, there was a square gray room ahead? I had to go and take a look. A strong sense of excitement had gathered in my heart after a long absence, and I thought the power of fate was at play.

However, I felt a chill throughout my body. Was this the poet's mockery? In the room, all that awaited me were scattered papers and a stack of white paper and black pens on the stage that were out of place with the surroundings. Was this really a room? It would be more appropriate to call it a gray matchbox, after all, there was nothing but a mirror, an earthen platform, and square walls. I glanced lightly at the mirror and reflected inside was a flowing long hair like a ribbon of starry night, with blue pupils and a dark blue face - this was me, nothing to look at. Wait, me? Who was I...

That “blue marble” was of great significance.

I hurriedly rushed to the window and gazed at the Earth in the inky black sky. It remained as serene and beautiful as ever, wrapped in gently swirling clouds.

Haha, Celestia,

You really were?

You really were…

Were you afraid of me?

Or worried about me?

Heh, ridiculous. Was this tenderness or cruelty? Or perhaps a poisoned medicine, half-heartedly, reluctant to do so?

However, if that’s the case, it was already too late. You had led me down this long path again and again; in the end, that Sisyphus-like wretch was just myself – there was no poet here, only a hateful and pathetic Ouroboros.

Was this the best choice?

But there was no time to think about it. If possible, please let this meaningless everything come to an end, or let me imagine that I was happy.

And then, I didn't want to think too much. I just wanted to collapse on the ground and take a short nap...

Afflicted with a headache and feeling feverish, where was this place? Oh, I recollected. It was on the moon. This was the moon, yet it wasn't as resplendent and unattainable as it seemed when viewed from the earth. Here, there was only sweltering heat.