Sometimes, When the sun gets low, And the stars and moon don’t seem to be hanging in the sky, Taunting me with their ability to disappear into oblivion, It can feel almost impossible to breathe.
While I know that being unable to breathe Because there is nothing in the darkness to light my way Is as about impossible as it is possible for me to love you again, It is still my reality.
I know that my heart will never be open to the possibility of surrendering itself so completely to you once more, Just as well as I know that this weight on my chest isn’t real, But it doesn’t make the feeling evaporate like water on a blisteringly hot day, Or even on a slightly too warm for a jumper day.
The harshness of my condition has been taught to me Like a bunny has been taught to hide When the foxes stalk it’s way. Even more so, the cures have been preached to me since The moment I admitted I led a tormented existence, And yet my existence has remained tormented.
Maybe this is my moment, my completely, impossible to ignore, Unavoidable, Moment. To quiet those which torment me. Which taunt me. Which remind me, I will never truly escape these chains That hold me on the starless nights.
going past the quarter of no return feeling rather timidly hesitatingly full of something yet unseen liken to smelling the baking cookies but having to leave before the bell rings here is always where trust comes in has to or it all falls apart till we begin again anew distraction's got nothing on this bright new filling moon
we are giddy and playful testing our new boundaries looking for new adventures in old words and scenes we are feeling so full like this bounty is and always was eternal we forget to check inventory we forget about cycles and laws and pretend we can play Gods on Earth forever this is our waning gibbus
we are receding we are moving inward to prepare for another rebirth we are absorbing all we have brought forth in abundant harvest with the fullness of our moon light we are strengthening we are gathering all unto us we are resting within our Self
Do you, too, like to stare at the moon, chandeliers and *** lights? when your eyes feel like they belong to a sculpture stuck in place, tunnel vision Do you, too, make moonlight out of street lamps, and use dreams to feed the craving of meaningful existence?