Of the Moon

I used to love

staying up

well into the night.

It was a sanctuary

where the young

rejoiced

in the defeat

of death.

But now that

invincibility

has proven

only theory,

the night

is no longer

my haven,

no longer

where I play,

where I laugh,

where I dance.

So heavy

this burden.

The night

now symbolizes

the end

to all

the happy endings

I can’t seem

to believe in.

How I long

for the innocence

of babes

who so easily

close their eyes,

who can

so easily

rest.

I wish beauty

was not

so often

tainted

with the wisdom

of goodbye.

I wish

I could

learn how

to live

with the fear

of the end.

We cannot escape

our final breath,

but I wish

I could

<be>

like those

who do not

live

in fear

of sleep,

who can truly

live within

the unknown.

So heavy

this fear.

I am not

comforted

by the idea

of space

and stardust,

not at peace

with the idea

of heaven,

of cycles,

of seasons.

I wish

I could

be present

with the forever

that lives

in each moment.

Wish I could

live in the moment.

Why am I always

simply waiting

for my sunset?

So heavy

this burden,

this fear

of the moon.

IG: @daydreamifications