Evenings—red, rose-colored, pink—often pacify people into forgetting their suffering. The sun half gone and the sound of water running its course through a stream, river, creek—lead people into a trance. They’ll be completely enraptured, and then they’ll see cruelty and inexcusable pain, again. Then they’ll see the moss on a tree and become entranced, again. They’ll be entranced, and then disheartened, and then entranced again, and then jolted, again.
“We are the music-makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” -Arthur O’Shaughnessy. | People say we’re useless. We say; Allahu akber, la illaha illah Allah, thank you Jesus, Hare Krishna, we’re absolutely crazy, we have the best ideas, it’s not our fault, it’s not your fault, stay strong, be not divided, seek help when you need it, even if it’s “only” in god, let it go, let it all go (it all has to go, actually), know that you’re only here for a short time, anyway. Spirituality and finding peace with all situations of life, is our path–please forgive us.
Nighttime
Hearing the soothing sound of the fan
lulled me to sleep. I still had a chapter to read, but I was gone by the time the evening star
grew to a diamond, in its brightness.
Absurdity, eeriness
made up the new atmosphere.
But the people and things I saw around me seemed, as always, nonchalant;
even the orchestra instruments that played on their own, and the men that applied makeup,
heavily, and glared hard at me
when I stared at them.
Even the clouds that would rain down candy seemed cavalier about it, all.
A lamb and a tiger had a baby. The baby’s name was Blake, and he kept asking me if God
had crafted both his parents.
Then the sun poured down its drops, and the moon got jealous, so it eclipsed the sun. And
everything went dark for a while, until the stars came out, and I could see again.
It was then, at the glittering of the night sky
that the realm of enmity, spite, and cruelty
pulled me back in.
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