I must remember these things that make me human. In my soft rush to get ahead for a chance to be myself I must stop and listen for the sound of oars in still water, the rolling toll of thunder on the wind, the pleasing breath of birds’ wings, the lonely bark of a strange dog— all these things glitter in a way what I see cannot glimpse. The truth of the matter betrays the simple finds and fortunes that sparkle, yet fade away to a background noise of darkness that leaves me with empty hands upturned to heaven as a cup. These are the things I catch when the moon is watching the still earth: The stuff of memories and dreams; the glowing breath of life.
When the Moon is Watching the Still Earth
When the Moon is Watching the Still Earth
When the Moon is Watching the Still Earth
I must remember these things that make me human. In my soft rush to get ahead for a chance to be myself I must stop and listen for the sound of oars in still water, the rolling toll of thunder on the wind, the pleasing breath of birds’ wings, the lonely bark of a strange dog— all these things glitter in a way what I see cannot glimpse. The truth of the matter betrays the simple finds and fortunes that sparkle, yet fade away to a background noise of darkness that leaves me with empty hands upturned to heaven as a cup. These are the things I catch when the moon is watching the still earth: The stuff of memories and dreams; the glowing breath of life.