During a ten minute break at work, an endless waltz.

I saw the moon today.  It's not like it was the first time I saw it in my life. Obviously.  It wasn't as though a new revelation dawned upon my frangible mind as to feed its curiosity like a mother bird landing on its nest to feed her young.  On the contrary, it was a plain moon in plain daylight almost at 3 quarters full.  Plainly.  Nothing new. Nothing special.  Nothing surprising about it at all.  The delight we shared came from the musings that followed suit when I gazed at it.

The moon has seen all of human history since it was spoken into existence.  Even mine.  It has been hanging upon an invisible thread endlessly waltzing around in perfect tempo either in daylight, within the azure sky, or in the night, the hours in which we should thank its illumination.

And so I mused.  I surmised that the moon was lonely from tirelessly pursuing the sun in the horizons, but never reaching the closeness it desires.  Even the time allotted to them, on those rare occasions, is never enough to warm its cold mass floating in the sky.  Perhaps, it desires more from the sun.  Perhaps, the sun clothing the moon from afar with raiments bedecked with light did not satisfy this endless waltz they shared.  Whether the moon was content, I could not answer.  It reminded me of the ancient kings and queens and how they did not share bed chambers in the very kingdom they owned.  The queen would have to wait for the king's visitation to her chambers upon his own volition.  Whether the queen grinned or grimaced from the king's visit, or lack thereof, it did not matter.

And so I mused.  I surmised again that the moon must be jealous of the sun.  Humanity wakes when the sun rises in the horizon; its popular.  People make time to enjoy the sun on more occasions than not.  And when the moon rises in its glorious dress full of radiance when the sun sleeps, most of humanity stays locked inside their homes and only a few come out to appreciate it. Perhaps, even in daylight when the moon is up, the sun does not even notice it.  Perhaps, the sun's own radiance hides the moon as if ashamed of its blemish like leafless tress hiding their colors from the dread of winter until spring.

Fascinating isn't it?  How the moon's brilliance in the night provokes love and intimacy on this earth and, to its unwarranted extreme, cultic practices and bizarre rituals.  It has witnessed love and romance; heartbreak to heartache, life unto even death.  Empathy overtakes me.  Whether the moon, witnessing intimacies and tragedies, has found hope, or lack thereof, to waltz on, I could not answer.

And so I mused.  I surmised that the moon desired a companion.  A second moon just beneath it.


And then I wondered what it would be like to live a life under two moons.



And then it hit me.  A question.

What if its the sun pursuing the moon?

And so I stopped musing because I realized what an endless waltz this was.

I realized why I stopped...

Stupid June.

I had a dream.  It was a peculiar one that had the fragrance of nostalgia scented all around it.  They were episodes of familiar emotions that produced such a familiar nostalgia as I woke.  Perhaps it's the month that triggered such a series of events in my mind like a rookie novelist finding words to write inspired by the change in seasons: the mysterious, unbeknownst time when winter turns to spring and spring to summer.
 I find it fascinating how scents can be a tool to trigger memories in recent and far pasts of the mind of a 24 (soon to be 25...) year old.  It's as if it were a universal language that any human being is well acquainted with, yet, it holds a unique power that only the individual can translate.

14 more days and it'll be 6 years and counting.

"Like an old mother staring at an age old epitaph, I still wonder what it would be like if you were still     around.  I let my heart sink in to view the stench of Earth's death with eyes like eagles, wings caught in Summer's breeze and fixed on the panorama--its endless--as my heart pleads the please."

I don't know about the rest of the world, the society I live in, even the sphere of influence that I have around me, but I feel as if the passing of a loved one inevitably triggers your mind to think about all of the relationships you have, or, acquired.  Perhaps it is this month that brought about an unwarranted nostalgia.

She can be so rude.  Barging in uninvited.  In one context, she can become the life of the party sparking old romances with old crushes.  In another, well, she becomes the undesirable reminder that you're just a hopeless romantic that cannot seem to find love.  Sappy. I know.

Strange.  As I recall the moment she barged in as I awoke, she stayed only a brief moment like a crow landing on your porch with a single caw and flying away as if it saw what it needed to see.

She's a powerful one this nostalgia.  She has the power to freeze time, or, rather, retard its tempo to such a degree and allow the mind to recall almost a quarter century of vivid memories--details only you can remember--in a span of a minute, maybe three.  Not only the vividness, but the joys.

The emotional and annoying part of this all?

The nostalgic joys of pleasantries and company (namely you, yes you (and yes this is a slight tangent)) did not match up to the claims on my reality.  It reminded me of how beautiful I thought of you when I first heard you laugh and the irreplaceable moments when words were not exchanged, yet, your presence was all I needed to breathe in.  Because in those moments, I thought this hopeless romantic heart of mine actually had a beat and rhythm and finally found the one who shared the same.

Enough of my crap.  I end with this:


"Elmer Yoo, behave up there, don't be flirting with them pretty angels".


Sincerely your little brother who has way too many useless problems to deal with and deserves an ass beating from you,

Joseph Sky Yoo


P.S.  I'm way older than you now, so I guess that means you're MY little brother.  Sucker.
P.S.S.  I can almost see you beating my ass for saying that just now.
P.S.S.S. I'd give anything in the world for you to beat my ass for a good minute just to see you one more time...even if it is on the floor with a busted nose and a raccoon eyed face.  I'd be smiling the whole way down..