The past manifests as a swift wind,
pulling me into a conundrum of clouded flashbacks,
marking the timeline of my life by the phases of the moon.
those illuminated images in my mind
distract me from my broken memories.

The sun would fall jealous at how I admired the moon…
resting high on a bed of clouds, without a worry,
worshipped by mortality-
Like how my mind obsesses over the moon's natural shimmer.

So divine...
and we are just mortals…
figurines below a sky of divinities.

I admit I can despise my mortality
and my daily mortal follies...
I wonder why my house is so cold
I wonder why you are so far
I wonder why i can’t see in color anymore
And the past, it taunts my mortal mind.
It hums the sweetest vibrations of superior light,
grasping me by the collar of my flesh,
Singing about everything i once was,
once had,
once loved…
The past took it away for it's own possession.
Perhaps that is what divinities do;
Possess our mortality.

Now it’s all gone,
and i’m a bitter old soul-cluster
who despises this flesh,
and radiates red that looks like grey,
and will spend my last moments of breath
searching for the illuminated face of the moon,
to bless me with the colorful love weaved into the memories of my past.


© 2016 D.M.V