Arrive at the top of the mountain in an exhausted daze. Look at the volcano rim in silent awe, unsure what could possibly be said to match its quiet majesty. Later, by the large lake, with cicadas conversing and lights blinking across the water, the silence says more than words, anyways, so you stay quiet.
You tell her you only see differences now, only obstacles. She says isn’t that what people do when they try to self destruct.
The moon is full
I take a long drag of a cigarette, look at the haunts of ny past review before me. I remember who I am.
It’s just, on the road of your life across the oceans, the blinking lights beam wherever you hope they take you to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment