It’s nights like these that I recall; that bring me back to the way the stars swirl above your dizzy head when you’re thrust to your knees. Tears blurring the cosmos; your soul watching through your waterstreaked windows, barely recognizing the body in which it dwells for now.
I just simply fell that night. Dropped my heavy heavy load. Watched as my art portfolio, my car keys, my bag, my books and my grocery bag just fell, rolled slightly away on the sloping sandy grass of a Long Island manmade hill.
I was empty- nothing left but these tears and my primal scream to the night sky.
The moon was hollow, I knew. No one was there to hear me so I wept more for myself. Like a gong, I resonated against that hollow moon and those tears cleansed my sorrow somehow, as they always do.
It’s funny how our horizon is almost never the same- we go through so many changes. So many men. So many friends. So many loves. So many cities and professions and apartments and houses. So many reflections looking back. But if you ever doubt that you are you, still you…
Look up.
