Entry

The whole world was at our fingertips:
A cool hand of God laid out amongst the
vast, and rolling endlessness of the plains.
We looked up and found some solace in the inky dusk:
more even than in where the sun still
bleakly broke and beat on the horizon.
Chewing straw with the earthen scent of work
floating back into memory as the sweetness
of the grass on a late-summer night took us,
flitting up around the solidifying moon like moths.
Sipping whiskey slowly in quiet restitute,
and yearning for days passed and days to come.
What a wondrous passtime, idling.
You can lay the whole world down for a moment
and just ponder the infinite nature of nothingness.
I blow rings of smoke as the Great Star
emblazons its piteous beauty upon that wester canvas
And she sings quietly to herself as our hearts beat.
It is here, amongst this humbling dome of ceiling
painted all the colors we are only subject to in dreams,
that I feel, for the first time, content with my surroundings,
and I know that truth and beauty sometimes coincide.