Stargazing

I went stargazing on that night. It turned against me, the procession of light and words and drifting, poised drunkenness. I can never trust anything i can't see. It climbs the walls, penetrates the plaster paint and brick and things crumble above me and in front of me like accumulated memories of suns and rains and objects so natural they can't be overlooked.

I flee from the beginnings of everything.
I hold something precious in my hands and then let it drop and break and find a different meaning. Lies and illusions mingle and swirl and i breathe slowly, meditatively, listening to my life as it happens. I happen. I happen and they said 'nothing ever dies'.
The rhythm is enough to bring you to a halt- a train or thought or whisper- with a jolt.
Perhaps if i handn't stopped to listen to myself i would've heard the mermaids singing love and poetry like the rushing of pebbles in the undertow.

We shied away from each other, murmurs draped in resignation, a missed opportunity we are, small significant events that shape something they never knew about, the life of a farmer in another place where having been denied the right to suffocate freely we would have fought for each other every day. But here we are a missed opportunity, and only managed to leave a trace of ourselves in the air hovering, a reaction in the atmosphere of spring.
I have no name for people like you or me.
Yet i feel and think and know and imagine and believe and see and guess that
we are a social epidemic:
The ones who will never be afraid of the dark but only of each other.