Carbon-filled balloons
The wonders and ponderings secreted from within
As wombats
and fleas ailments
So they seem by one who closes his eyes to look
and find beauty
within the frames of diligence
A diligence that stands for nothing more than attic space and cold pretzels on
a warm sunny night
The moon laughs –
It awaits the disguises all will don.
Al, Will and Don laugh –
They await the coming of the new moon;
A moon that will not laugh,
But will weep
For all it sees on this cold piece of clay we live upon.
It will weep and a tear will strike the ground,
though none call it rain.
They know the moon cries
Cries at all the loves on earth
Knowing it can take no part
It is alone
Apart from these things it sees
Lonely moon.
Safe moon.


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