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The moon had been observing the earth close-up longer than anyone.
It must have witnessed all of the phenomena occurring – and all of the acts carried out – on this earth.
But the moon remained silent; it told no stories.
All it did was embrace the heavy past with a cool, measured detachment.
On the moon there was neither air nor wind.
Its vacuum was perfect for preserving memories unscathed.
No one could unlock the heart of the moon.

Art by: AshenSorrow
Quote by: Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Quote provided by: CZ

Silent and Spooky

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

Photo by: QAuZ
Poem: Haunted Houses
Poem (partial) by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem provided by: CZ