Bright moon
Next to the trees
With roots running deep
Oh, bright moon, I can see you
My roots are near thee
I will never touch you like that tree
The night is my friend
Standing still
Bright moon, can you see me?
Category: Existence
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Flying home…
Waiting in the airport
Listening to announcements
Of flights I have taken in the past
Of flights I will take in the future
Planes taking off full of hope
Planes landing with shattered dreams
Passengers waiting to leave
Lovers going to meet
An old man
Once young
He has travelled everywhere
But he will die here
Listening to the airplane above
Flying home…
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Illusions. Shadows. Light…
Brain constantly changing.
Us constantly changing.
Based on what? Who is the “self”? Who are you?
We are all shadows in a cosmic dance of nothingness.
Trying to figure out where the light comes from.
Trying to understand what we see.
Only because we believe that we see.
Only because we cannot accept we are darkness.
Nothing is organized.
There is no self. But the illusion of self.
In a cosmos full of light.
Only darkness can be the father of us all…
[universe, illusion, darkness, cosmos]
Poetic Philosophy 