Smell of Moonlight

Moonlight smells of insomnia and dreams.

I hear the sound of late night revellers and graveyard-shifters. I think about the crimes being committed somewhere. I feel the chill in the air as the street dog curls up in her sleep. I sip a few more drops of alcoholic imagination. I see my blank screen, as I struggle to find inspiration.

wistful desires

blanks I need to fill

irreverent demons turn inside

as the gods of compliance chill

The world sleeps. The night seems less real, in absence of the outside validation I am addicted to. Am I real, with all my transient thoughts and dreams? The pressures of the day will change it again. Am I acceptable, in my original transparency? I will dress my thoughts for the world again.

the other end beckons

with uncertain murmuration

the night offers change

while I seek transformation

The Sun and Moon depart to make space for the other. Light accepts existence with varying levels of intensity. We align our levels of activity to planetary movement. I am connected. I am a part of the universe. The night can create illusions of a-part-ness. Neither is the day real, nor night. It is only a position in the orbit of the Sun.

Moonlight smells of the frameworks we impose on it.

JSW Prompt