Smell Of Moonlight
Smell Of Moonlight
Moonlight smells of insomnia and dreams.
I hear the sound of late night revellers and graveyard-shifters.
I think about the crimes being committed somewhere.
I feel the chill in the air as the street dog curls up in her sleep.
I sip a few more drops of alcoholic imagination.
I see my blank screen, as I struggle to find inspiration.
Wistful desires,
Blanks I need to fill,
Irreverent demons turn inside,
As the gods of compliance chill.
The world sleeps.
The night seems less real,
In absence of the outside validation that I am addicted to.
Am I real, with all my transient thoughts and dreams?
The pressures of the day will change it again.
Am I acceptable, in my original transparency?
I will dress my thoughts for the world again.
The other end beckons,
With uncertain murmuration,
The night offers change,
While I seek transformation.
The Sun and Moon depart to make space for the other,
Light accepts existence with varying levels of intensity,
We align our levels of activity to planetary movement,
I am connected. I am a part of the universe,
The night can create illusions of a-part-ness,
Neither is the day real, nor night,
It is only a position in the orbit of the Sun.
Moonlight smells of the frameworks we impose on it.