Twilight Zone
There are cracks in the moon
where reality creeps in.
She doesn't care about Grace Jones any more.
Can't remember the concerts she went to.
How funny it seemed to get stoned and try and drive places;
pull up in the middle of the expressway thinking they were at a stop light;
become transfixed by the magnified fish in a tank.
The joy of animals is in the physical.
They don't sit around and ponder the purpose of existence.
Their purpose is to be.
They aren't afraid of the glimpses beyond
that show through gaps. They don't close their eyes
and pretend not to see the reflected echoes
of moon that sequin the edges.
where reality creeps in.
She doesn't care about Grace Jones any more.
Can't remember the concerts she went to.
How funny it seemed to get stoned and try and drive places;
pull up in the middle of the expressway thinking they were at a stop light;
become transfixed by the magnified fish in a tank.
The joy of animals is in the physical.
They don't sit around and ponder the purpose of existence.
Their purpose is to be.
They aren't afraid of the glimpses beyond
that show through gaps. They don't close their eyes
and pretend not to see the reflected echoes
of moon that sequin the edges.
posted by burning moon at 5:01 AM
2 Comments:
Beautiful write Moon, a superb examination of our motivations and the validity of such, the simplicity of existence versus the constant searching of the mind, most excellent :)
wow. thanks. I'm so glad you got all that from this. I read it through yesterday and thought, no one else will ever have a clue what this is about!
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