Moonlight has a way of augmenting beauty and atmosphere. It transforms something plain to picturesque, and beautiful to surreal. The mountains bathed in its whiteness appear to be from dreamland, their silhouettes shimmering. It filters through the trees - they seem right out of Fangorn, silvery and alive, with the leaves rustling in the wind. All are blessed equally. It falls on the rock faces, and even the dull black glows.  It is mysterious and ghostly, it ignites our imagination.

It’s a philosopher’s and artist’s delight. They try to visualize many shapes in its craters, and admire its workmanship on nature’s canvas, in black and white. It inspires us to dream, fantasize and transcend the realm of mere mortals. It draws us close, trying to envelop us in its own world before the sun’s harsh rays take it away.

I gaze at the white orb, and try to forget that this light is not just the reflection of the sun. I feel I am not the only one awake at this ungodly hour, that someone is silently observing me from a distance. The rays permeate within me, and I feel vitalized. I look at the stars, and identify my favourite constellations – Big Dipper and Orion, but know that the Milky Way won’t be visible on such a bright night. The little white lights shimmering in the scattered villages are like the reflection of the sky on earth.  I keep staring at the White Blemished One, and all worldly thoughts seem to desert me. Time seems infinite and miniscule at the same time – the paradox amuses me. And in that moment I am one with the vast emptiness around, feeling an indefinable pleasure. But my consciousness jolts me back into reality and I trudge back to my bed, to cross into a different world inside me.