The Moon.

The New Ideas

The Moon.

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<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="4nIHmbpddS"><a href="https://thenewideas.org/index.php/2026/02/18/the-moon/">The Moon.</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://thenewideas.org/index.php/2026/02/18/the-moon/embed/#?secret=4nIHmbpddS" width="500" height="350" title="&#8220;The Moon.&#8221; &#8212; The New Ideas" data-secret="4nIHmbpddS" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script> /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://thenewideas.org/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js </script>

The moon has filled,

The furnace has went out,

And the waves has risen up, took away the dolphins.

And the lump in my throat,

As the ocean has dried up and all the whales has occluded,

And I couldn’t talk.

A crab in the beach.

Oh how I would love to break its legs,

To tear its insides out and exile it from the beach,

Oh how would I love to.

So much that there won’t be any road,

For it to come back.

Oh how would I love to see the cheliped it moves,

Looking into my eye, make fun of me, to fall off.

How would I love it to get drowned,

By the ocean’s waves that it has dried up.

How would I love to take those huge waves back,

Of the ocean it has left no trace behind.

As if I was stuck where the north wind has dragged me to,

See this huge blankness for the first time.

Little did I know that it wasn’t a blankness,

I was just an obsidian, in a moonstone.

Caught up in my rhyolitic flow, has released my soul,

My soul has bled.

The moon has overflowed.