Lucid Lunacy

I imagine I am one with the smoke as it gently drifts into the darkness
and mingles with the silver lit clouds
embracing the moon
The only way I will ever reach it.

For the orb holds my future
Desired so greatly
Yet the distance between us is insurmountable
But this beautiful sadness, this glimpse of light
shining through the clouds
is enough  to sustain that weak flower of hope.
The only way I will ever reach it.

Inky blackness fills my eyes
As I blink it away the moon moves on
For another month
My hope is gone
And again the tears

Down my face
forming a dark pool in my heart as I realise

I will never reach it.


Poetry: Emily Dickinson



I had been hungry all the years;
My noon had come, to dine;
I, trembling, drew the table near,
And touched the curious wine.

‘T was this on tables I had seen,
When turning, hungry, lone,
I looked in windows, for the wealth
I could not hope to own.

I did not know the ample bread,
‘T was so unlike the crumb
The birds and I had often shared
In Nature’s dining-room.

The plenty hurt me, ‘t was so new, —
Myself felt ill and odd,
As berry of a mountain bush
Transplanted to the road.

Nor was I hungry; so I found
That hunger was a way
Of persons outside windows,
The entering takes away.

-Emily Dickinson