The Moon Goddess on Hot Grains of Sand

Published on 13 February 2023 at 12:48

I’ve always had feet that guided me far away, feet that make me run. I rarely take time to ground myself and place my feet firmly on the ground. Why do I run? I guess, I like my boundless freedom and value my spare time. I don’t get lonely, instead, I immerse myself in creativity. I have always been like that.

I find it bamboozling that people get “bored” but, being restless, now that I can understand. My feet get that twitch and suddenly I am carried away to far and distant lands. In search of foreboding wisdom and admiration for what is new.

Bold and trailblazing, my feet don’t connect with the earth, often. I make life far too fast-paced for that. But sometimes I wonder, why? Sometimes, I think that could be a weakness of mine, to seek so much from this one life that we have.

Have I failed to connect with existing, or truly took my time to submerge myself into every fibre of the culture and world that is all around me?

Maybe, I am rushing headfirst and it’s too fast to take it all in. Where my perfectionism gets caught on the details that are too small, my determination and will, often see my hypersonic speed tail to great lengths, sometimes, I don’t even understand what I’m doing. I don’t give myself the time to think, I just do- and in that way am I missing my life?

I don’t seek direction or try to find a path, I simply march ahead, storming on the ground, leaving those curtails of chemtrails and blowing dust onto that dusky horizon…

Should the rings of Saturn wrap around me? Would that hold me down? How I long for a deep connection to shatter my orbit and leave me breathless, bound by the idea of eternity to release me from this curse, so I might finally enjoy a normal life instead of that of a Moon Goddess.

Moon Goddess

Little Pearls that shine so bright,


Opalescent and mellowly white,


Golden globes spinning around,


What is up and what is down?


Hidden pleasures of delight,


Manifest in the moonlight bright,


Sudden ferocity of an amber glaze,


Falling behind a weeping stage,


The curtains close, my feet are bare,


Running from my hidden despair.

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