The moon is on fire this morning.
It might be the brightest moon I think I’ve ever seen. Then again, the past in its turn grows a bit fuzzier with each passing day.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the past.
I wake up each morning softly cocooned in my blanket, adrift in some long, lost memory. Dreams of what was seem to stand guard, helping to preserve my sanity by pushing aside the horrors of today.
What strange times we live in.
Am I even allowed to mention that?
I must confess, dear.. I’m having some trouble keeping up. Rules on what’s acceptable and non-acceptable seem to change daily now.
Mayhaps if someone could jot them down for me, I could set aside an hour or two each afternoon to go over them.
I wouldn’t want to offend anyone, now would I?
Bodies continue to dance, though the tunes have long ended. Sway for as long as needed, dear. Softly, gently, slowly bringing yourself to a close. Remember, refusing to let go is a human trait. We all share in your loss.
Horrors of the day.
Bitter confusion everywhere I look.
Lost in the mists of time. Bouncing to and fro. Even something as intangible as confusion can get old it seems.
I have a plan though..
I’ll beef up to face the day, grab my coat and perhaps a cheerful smile on my way out.
There’s a lunch at noon, then a dinner quite late.
This evening will most likely have its way with me. Finally – it’s back to my long, lost memories and trusty old blanket.
That’ll do pig.
If you listen intently, you might still be able to trace the last vestiges of a tune in there somewhere.
-I am Crandew