What a most peculiar thing if might be
If the old rumor proved itself true
if the moon, beneath its pale rind of light,
were truly a quiet continent of cheese.
we would go there with modest a ceremony I suppose:
a small basket, a bottle of good wine,
and a sleeve of crisp crackers for company.
We would climb the gentle slopes of craters
as one walks the curved back of a sleeping hill,
breaking from that silent wheel a careful portion,
and set our little table upon the settling dust.
Then the cork would loosen with a patient sigh.
Dark wine would gather in the glass slow,
like a calm evening held in the hand.
Crackers would snap like small constellations,
the moon’s soft bounty beside them.
And below
far below a gentle glare
the Earth would turn in its deep blue glow,
Magnificent in all it's majesty
clouds drifting across its living seas
as if painted in slow, deliberate strokes by the eternal.
There i would sit without haste or hurry,
wine passing gently from hand to hand,
tasting the quiet fellowship upon my lips
of bread, cheese, and the view of distant oceans.
For in that high and borrowed stillness
one might discover a simple truth:
that even among the cold provinces of heaven,
a bottle of wine,
a humble *******
and a glowing world to watch
are enough to make a kings feast. 🍷🌕
Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 7:44 PM UTC
What a most peculiar thing if might be
If the old rumor proved itself true
if the moon, beneath its pale rind of light,
were truly a quiet continent of cheese.
we would go there with modest a ceremony I suppose:
a small basket, a bottle of good wine,
and a sleeve of crisp crackers for company.
We would climb the gentle slopes of craters
as one walks the curved back of a sleeping hill,
breaking from that silent wheel a careful portion,
and set our little table upon the settling dust.
Then the cork would loosen with a patient sigh.
Dark wine would gather in the glass slow,
like a calm evening held in the hand.
Crackers would snap like small constellations,
the moon’s soft bounty beside them.
And below
far below a gentle glare
the Earth would turn in its deep blue glow,
Magnificent in all it's majesty
clouds drifting across its living seas
as if painted in slow, deliberate strokes by the eternal.
There i would sit without haste or hurry,
wine passing gently from hand to hand,
tasting the quiet fellowship upon my lips
of bread, cheese, and the view of distant oceans.
For in that high and borrowed stillness
one might discover a simple truth:
that even among the cold provinces of heaven,
a bottle of wine,
a humble *******
and a glowing world to watch
are enough to make a kings feast. 🍷🌕
