FULL MOON ON TOP OF A CHAMPAGNE PALM'S TIP

i always console myself with the idea that i am not
at all alone

there are too many of me, of us, that we all become one boring
brew of liquefied images
coffee flowing on the carpet and wetting it and there is a fume
and the dust are captured on the stains

what i feel now is the feeling that i do not want anything at all
that i just write what comes to my mind
without choosing

and i am bombarded with thoughts and i am always on a defensive stance
a recipient always, passive and relaxed

things that come like rain to an empty earthen vessel
gives that feeling of fullness
which is too pacifying to the weary mind

then the vessel is filled with water and water pours out its liquid body
to the ground
to the grass to the canals racing to another path

we try to follow it
it has myriad options and we are at a loss which way shall it be

words are like that
they pour upon our void

others are blind and keep on talking about
hair and heads and hands

it is just myself that feel
emptying and filling and running and taking the journey again

what you see is the stillness of the body
a shadow on the wall

the night and rain sometimes come together
i choose to be your moon

and you are there looking at me
i am full, your gaze empties me

into a profusion of gentle dancing light
on your face

i never said a word
in the silence of my own understanding

you are so far away like a fallen star.