hominem in lunam

The man on the moon, alone in space,

knowing no one else would ever let him down. 

Where unpleasant winds do not exist, a calm silence in all directions, his breath his own. 

Imagine yourself a bubble floating and get higher, 

a never ending dream and yet feel pain.

To be the eye of the needle with every decision, 

he made peace with the fact that he will never feel the rains wash the images from his eyes fall slowly upon a face forgotten. 

His heart a dark chasm of open thoughts, reminders of his lives lost, 

he didn't know he had so much taken away from him so easily let go like past lovers forget his name. 

The man on the moon, alone, 

were his lonely festers like a never ending glow. 

And this bonfire in him it ignites memories of a time when loved ones did love him back, 

before the depression took hold, before the drinking was a hobby, 

the loss, before, 

when a river flowed slowly down his skin with a constant happiness that made the current in this place an abundant thing.

Where palm trees grew, the sun told time,

now he'd felt aches in his face whenever he'd smiled. 

Whenever on the good days he'd forget about his broken wings, 

whenever on those days the pain felt a little more bearable. 

Alone, in the dark places the ghosts told him it wasn't his fault, 

that he was a better driver slightly drunk,

that he had his whole life ahead of him,

that it was probably just their time, 

 the blade wounds to his wrists a painful reminder of some other failed choices, 

his only daughter could have been four by now and death didn't do him apart from that. 

This man, he blames himself. 

No sun to be his warmth, spends his days alone, 

forgotten, swallowed by the noises of the mundane life. 

Where people walk by and see only a beautiful house. 

This man on the moon, 

still alone in space knowing no one else could ever let him down. 

Like he did, to himself so many times before.

28/09/20✔️

"hominem in lunam" latin for "Man on the moon".

"Ars longa, vita brevis."