13 July 2009

starshine

and it's 4:51 and i'm awake again
still

awake i think i'm always

awake or maybe i'm

always sleeping

i can't tell the difference

between waking and

sleeping and dark

and light and when

is it the

daytime

when the moon

he smiles at me and

beckons me closer

and closer still

and holds me

in his gaze

or was it the

night-time

when the clouds

they made shapes

and held hands

and giggled and

called out for me

to join them and make

shapes and be free

i think maybe it's

all the same and the same

is different which makes it new

but nothing varies

so it becomes

older yet this moment is not ever

like the last one, but maybe the one before it

or it could be brand new

then you'd never know because

we can never remember because

what? we're only human

and can only percieve

just so much

with the 10% that we are capable of.

who is to say really what is

new or day or moon or sun or night or old

surely we will never know

and it's 5:00 and i'm awake still

again

and the man in the

moon he

was beckoning me but

i looked away for just a moment and

now he's leaving me he's

hiding behind the

weeping willow but maybe i can still see him

through the low swinging branches

and short gusts of windy breath

i looked away for just a moment and now

he's leaving me

i thought maybe

he might have loved me

even just for a moment

he did call out for me to join him

in his orbit

or my orbit

or something that orbits

but i see now that he didn't really love me

and he's dipping lower behind the willow tree, hiding

still i thought for maybe a moment or two

or 34 moments something timeless or

transcending of time

he may have loved me.

and it's 5:06 and i'm awake again

still

and i guess that the quilt above me

scattered with patchwork and things like

star-shine and aeroplanes and planetary movement

well i guess the quilt, she's always

illuminated

but now maybe she's a little bit lighter than she was

before but then again maybe not, because really

who can tell and who is to say really

what is what and such and such and so and so

because yr mother told you so.

as my starshine aeroplane quilt slowly drifts

away from me i can see

pre-morning-time clouds awakening and beginning to

stir and swirl and wave good-morning good-evening to all the little

star-shines who blink and yawn and stretch their little star-shine arms

above their heads and ready themselves for slumber

and the blue-birds and robins and sparrows i can hear them

as they wake and call

good-morning to the swirling twirling clouds and

good-evening to the star-shines and to the aeroplanes

so maybe it is morning after all

but who is to say, really?

and it's 5:13 and i'm awake still

again

and it seems that things appear more clear than they may or may not have been

before and maybe i am more

lucid or perhaps less

but i can see now the trellis on the back fence

and the climbing ivy and the weeping willow

i can see her branches more distinctly

and she is beautiful and serene and melancholy as ever

before i could see the ends of my finger-tips, maybe

and the ashtray overflowing next to me

and the willow across the yard

with the moon peeking through, keeping his distance

and now i can see the oak tree

where it has grown through the eaves of my bedroom because

maybe you planted it a little too close to the foundation

or maybe because it just wanted to be closer

and a part of the love in this house

who is to say really. what the oak tree wanted

and it's 5:21 and i'm awake again

still

and the crisp new air

she is biting at my too pale cheeks

and now that i am thinking about it

my finger-tips are cold like the washroom tile is

coldest when you step out of the bath

but i know that my finger-tips are still moving and

working and fighting and creating because

i can hear them or rather i can hear the

clickety-clacking of my shiny red lacquered finger nails on this old

keyboard where it sits with me on

old and grey-ing wooden steps in this

post-midnight pre-dawn moment that is eternal and finite

and it's 5:26 and i'm awake still

again

and i can see just one lonely little starshine

still twinkling and winking at me from the

almost blue

quilt that covers us (me and the beagle and the weeping willow and

everything and also you, because you are here too)

this rebellious little starshine she does not want to

go to sleep

or maybe she does. who is to say, really.

perhaps she can't. or maybe she's just forgotten what the difference is

between waking and sleeping and dark and light and when it is the

daytime

and when it is the night-time.

i see you, starshine, and i know you and it's okay.

he almost fooled me too.

you thought he loved you so

you came when he beckoned you into the

sky and then when he began to slip away

and hide behind willow trees and ivy'd trellises

you were unable to unentangle yourself from his

cursed quilt.

and now starshine, she's forgotten what the difference is

between waking and sleeping and dark and light and when it is

the day-time

and when it is the night-time.

and it's 5:34 and i'm awake again

still

but this is okay.

i see you, starshine, and i know you and it's okay.

he almost fooled me too.