I have been to the moon.
That quiet, lonely place.
Where stillness and silence dominate.
I have processed the pain.
As overthinking took hold.
My heart in custody. No bail for my soul.
I have stood at the party.
While my mind knelt alone.
Down in a crater. My existence unknown.
My mind sent the riddles.
Which echoed like screams.
Through my every being. I was stuck in a dream.
My intuition blew the whistle.
And locked down the place.
Avoid all the others. Evade every face.
People need people.
But they forget us sometimes.
A shot through the heart. Such a shame. Such a crime.
But the moon offers light.
So I’ll go there again.
To process my peace. To recover my zen.