The Moon is New

Only hours now until I meet my slave.

In Colorado, where I live, the full moon is magnificent when it sets over the Rocky mountains as the sun rises. It is an amazing sight that is always worthy of a glance in the early morning when the day is right. Its beauty attracts the attention of all. "How beautiful, how amazing," they coo. But it runs and hides as soon as the sun rises, running to keep up with the darkness of night.

No one ever notices the new moon. It is quiet and unobtrusive. Silent. It rises in the east with the sun and looks down at the mountains rather than escaping behind them. The new moon is a servant to the sun, always presenting its brightest face to the heavenly body that masters it, selflessly enhancing the brightness of the sun. It is bound to the sun, following its arc through the day with unquestioning obedience and devotion. Wherever the sun goes, the new moon follows, ready always to serve. Its enslavement to the sun is total, unhesitant, and complete, all of her seen by her Master even while unseen by others.

Tonight, on the night of the new moon, my girl has made her way to the Colorado mountains, and waits there for me to arrive with collar in hand. She is the new moon. She will rise with the sun, quietly at its side, presenting all of her brightness and beauty to her Master.

As I slip to sleep and rest this night before beginning my part of the journey, I am aware of the dawn that approaches. When the sun will rise to its greatest height in the sky, fierce and brilliant with light and power ... and with the new moon at its feet.

I come with the dawn, my girl.

Stephen