I know I’ve been mostly posting about my podcast… I’m trying to change that, and write more poetry and stories. Unfortunately, the muse hasn’t been visiting me as often as I’d like, but the other night I was staring up at the moon, and it was so glorious that it inspired me to take this picture. I also wrote a short micro poem.
The boisterous winter windswept it has its reasons, and I have mine standing still to watch the Moon shape itself in some many clouds, as the gravity of everything spirals out all our debris in a dance.
What a night it was, when I realized
I have myself, and shouts of victory
sings, claps, praise a release that
doesn’t wait for you to recognize
validate my breath as it breathes
for the night’s fresh air, with it’s majesty
of stars, glory that is the moon, with
the coming sunrise, I kiss absurdity’s latitude.
While everyone is sleeping, I lay awake
wondering what is holier than listening
for when finding the hum of your breathing
nothing else exist but this joyous jubilee
suddenly, the inanimate becomes alive
imagining golden horizons staring back at me.
Like a stray dog, I point my nose to the eclipsed
moon, begging for your scent, your sun, I wander
in circles, shivering on the last spot you stood saying
goodbye, I howl my loneliness for everyone to witness.