(I never do, anyway, shhh)
Have a fling with the Moon,
And talk to the Night,
I want to be free,
And grow Wings that travel,
To full Liberty.
I’m so very tired,
Of the madness around,
I want to take off,
And never touch ground.
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Our Moods,
Fly in, fly outDiscovery,Always Doubt,A lifetime of StudiesAnd still, no routeWe know NothingReally!Of what Life,Is all about.
Some poets think,
A few truths,We can change the World.How infantile!Nobody listens,Or even cares,To read or follow,Our silly flares.
When all has been written,
When all dreams have broken,Including, yourself,Will there still be a poem,To be written with love,Concerning the mystery,Of all that’s above.Will that poem be ample,And serious and bestTelling of Love’s tireless quest?Will it make those that read it,Like never before,Feel the call of Life fullyAnd even want more?
As a child,
The Moon and goFor a ride,Inside the sky(Hey, diddle, diddlethe cat and the fiddle,the cow jumped over the moon)One of my favorite,Nursery RhymesI also wanted to play ballWith the planetsAnd see what there was,Inside,I suppose that wasMy short lived, Astronaut side,Also wanted to Fraternize,With roses and birds,Nature’s honey slideBeing a child,With all the hopesAnd dreams,…
Everything turns in circles,
On a Merry-go-round,It’s difficult not to get dizzy,Or have your head not pound.Clarity, Answers, Safety,Searched, but never really found,The process is slow, we’re lazy,If we make it,How many more centuries, ?To be going, round and round.
Sit and look at the wall,
Loneliness does not care,If you move or if you stare.Solitude’s story,More pain than glory.