One small being strapped to a revolving ball of water out in the boonies of the universe. Sound waves cut. Sad, sad, music, wanes and grows. My self-loss echoes silent. Black night. White-yellow stars. The moon spits it's tobacco juice golden glow and we hold our breath. Sucked beneath the earth by savage undertow.
I've caught the thin blue morning light a couple times recently. Painting water colors while it supposed me asleep. I've dragged my transformed heart around as it pumped perfectly over and over again, so much stronger than my spirit. My heart beats on and on oblivious to my condition. I've become a person capable of loving again. The bravest act we have, is also our only redemption, the only buffer from the walking dead. I reach and cling to wet strands, using my muscles for something. Grateful for the grand illusion of separate days.
