With a dirty orange and craters of depth,
Another harvest moon has fallen,
Shadowed by its reflection,
Through mystic and intrigue,
Perfection is viewed from afar,
As the steps close the shores,
The space between emerges,
Oozing with question,
Uncertainty strangling purple,
All would disappear if magnified,
The corners are missing among the rest,
Inner turmoil is masked with thick crescent smiles,
Confused with the bunch,
So many cherried assumptions,
But there was some truth to the shine,
Fields of golden grains,
Watered with substance and bathed with warmth,
Minds of lower altitudes rear higher wishes,
Purposeless ignorance is wrapped with tape,
No expectations, no tears,
No expectations, no pride,
No expectations, no dreams,
The path of least resistance is glowing,
But it’s vanishing fast,
Rounding the bends of the sun,
Each innocent petal is shed,
Fear is towered by birth,
Lifetime’s relative, youth inescapable,
Life is to be had,
Despite the red,
Continuation is upon and laughter is the boat,
Smooth, white sails are open,
A proud, bald spinnaker leading,
The willful winds have picked up,
And the square sea is ready,
Seductively calling your name.
Copyright © 2014
