the heaviness of argument

Hours and hours into the night

Circles and circles

As the pale moonlight

Shines in through the windows

That need to be cleaned

Like the windows of my car

That also have seen

Pained conversations

and strained tones of voices.

Trails streak the grime on the windshield

Like tears of despair

That anything can be healed.

The wounds are too deep

The differences too vast

To keep losing sleep; we may as well cast

these worries away.

The world is busted, what else can one say?

There's so much hatred and injustice, it's painfully true,

but it all hurts too much to know what to do.

The leaders of the world are the blind leading the blind

yet not enough see it, so our hands remain tied.

Words without actions are worthless,

they say

though often words still seem superfluous

when we may

stop for a moment for a moment to listen and learn

about how to love and to live - the things after which we should yearn.

But for as long as the moon has circled the earth

We’ve been running in circles

Trying to prove our own worth

By proving our point – like therefore, you’re wrong –

and like gravity ensures the moon keeps going around

the world and it problems ensure our arguments abound.

but the moon never touches the planet it belongs to

like our talk is just talk and in lieu

of real action, we never grab onto the things

that actually might matter

we are planets, we pass each other with no possible way

of making real contact with what each tries to say

and we all just circle around what really goes on

and now we’ve been talking and talking so long that its dawn

and the moonlight no longer illuminates the dust

on the windows in my room that really, really must

get cleaned someday, along with my car

and my laundry and my life, and now I’ve wandered so far

away from my point, that now what’s the point

in finishing our talk, that never meant anything

yet we've talked til the moonlight was gone, so

we must have accomplished something . . .

what if we weren’t so concerned with coming full orbit?

what if each gave up their philosophical perch on their planet

to touch each other, and really listen to the problems

and get messy with the stuff of the earth

the mud and the weight and the width and the girth

that is far far too big for our silly conversations

but we’ll never realize it until we let go of our elaborate augmentations

and hold each others hands

and walk each others shoes

and be humble enough to just wonder

about the moon.







-abbie