Wednesday, December 15, 2010

James' Search For the Moon

James went searching for the moon and pointed to a lamp post. 

What of the flowers turned to ghosts?
What of the groping dreams, and starlit nights.
What if the sun never rose in the universe of my soul?

I looked around and we were skeletons with elaborately painted masks
Silver smiles and empty eyes.
We drifted in the barren air, grabbing for every other colour
And our fingers slip like oil every time.
Being a bundle of awkwardly put together bones, and a plastic mask,
I drifted about believing I was beautiful and full.
The darkness was unsettling

When I stared at the black and dampened stars
I sensed warmth, like from the ashes of a fire just put out.
What if the sun never rose?
I’d scrape my bones, nodding, and never know flesh:
the warmth, softness, beauty.
Many a daylight spent and many a dream of you,
But James went searching for the moon,
Did he ever wake at sunrise?

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