Pregnant Moon
a thought on time that passed
There is a long pause,
and there is you right in the middle of it.
Sinking ship under the stars.
They aren’t out tonight, but days ago the moon — pregnant in its winter glow — sat with its face across from mine. Rooting into this world. And a swinging wrinkled adolescent, bright white hair, short as grass greeting us, welcoming in the halls of our tower. You were woods growing dark, and I’d be lightness and be you.
How rarely you came up for air when I was water.
Church bells singing through the light and night just the same. Sticks burning on cobbled roads, alleys ducked away with cats lurking on a street corner, when a guy came to ask my name. Walked around, gambling through contemplations, through my ever-changing moods.
Caged myself.
How I ran like a blind dead man through the rain of people.
To find you.
Complaining whilst citing the universe, not aware of who I meant when preaching and believing in a lucid dream. Night after night when I stepped out just alive.
How small a human body when trying to hold love.
I haven’t grasped the whole scope of you yet, the hidden meanings and reasons why. But let the ease seep in my bones a little more, don’t wring it out too quick.
Not yet.
