Brace for impact

Waiting and forever weeping.
Wallowing by the willows as the moon crashed.
Shattering astral intentions deep into my veins.
As I waited and wondered by the river of eternity.
The shock of the moment rocked us side to side.
Dislodging your mind.
Unhinging my soul.
Letting the worms and the words slither inside.
Unbuttoning my pride and laying my ego to waste.
It hasn’t killed us yet, it hasn’t had time to grow.
But the speed of its corruption, how it does persist.
Splits my cells in fear.
I watch this all from space, safely in my own atmosphere.
Trapped inside a dream.
Now, with far retching chemtrails which tickle the nose of god.
Thwarting any ideas of escape or reason.
It pulls and pushes at me.
Bringing me down.
Papering the fall.
Toppling the monuments that I had built for us all.

23/05/2023 by Mark Ryan Categories: crash, moon, spaceTags: astmosphere, astral, blood, crash, death, demise, earth, god, impact, moon, poem, Poetry, space 6 Comments