As the gradual dimming of the moon under the influence of an eclipse took place last night, clouds moved in. By 10:50, just a couple minutes after the eclipse's peak, they covered the moon, and would remain that way well past the point in which the moon would return to 'normal.'
The eclipse, however, was interesting. In driveways throughout the town, groups of people stood staring at the lunar occurrence, perhaps rekindling some romanticism or astronomical indulgence, or just enjoying a warm night in September with a chance to see something unique. I watched from my bedroom, nighttime music washing over my ears, as the dimming of the moon slowly inched onwards, second after second, minute after minute, a temporary occurrence that would soon be relegated to a distant memory, one that would grow fainter and fainter as time passed, not unlike the moon. As with all things, this moment in time will be lost, the event will be lost, just another small moment in a life full of moments of impermanence and temporary reprieve.
And then the clouds moved in, covering it all, rendering the end meaningless, impossible to see. People went back inside, and I crawled in under the covers. A fitting metaphor, perhaps - such was the eclipse - a temporary thing that would soon be washed over and rendered non-existent in all but name, the end winked out of existence by the doldrums of a now cloudy night. I laid awake for hours, listening to the same songs over and over, knowing that it would be the last supermoon eclipse I would see, knowing that 2033 was outside my life expectancy, knowing that the small and rather unique but largely unintimidating event was just another disappointing reminder of what could have been.