The present

The Present

The moon creeps past the grizzly clouds;
Night of insane quiet, a tinge of purple down the lamp post, even quieter;
Quiet is the park, chirped, it did, hours before, now quiet;
The stars dance on the rhythm of the now-still-pond;
The rhythm of the trees dancing on the tune of the winds;
Oh, I feel loved, the quiet universe sings;
Quiet is my soul, seething revenge on ocular rings;
Rings of the past, the present and the future, dancing across the limitless sky;
Scary, isn't it? How quiet it is;
What if I could drown beneath the shores of the rageful ocean inside my pitiful liver?
Will it go away, the melancholic-cryptic-spirit inside me? Will it sink with the crest of forced joy?
Or will it break into another trough of desperate fallacy?
Oh, I feel loved, the quiet universe sings;
Quiet is the ring of the past, a hand pulled me in, past the greyish whispers that dragged me into the darkest of nights;
Quiet is the ring of the future, another hand pushed me out, across the colorless odor that shoved me towards the warmest of noon;
Not the ring in the midst of my right nostril, breathe, I couldn't, till the heavy sigh of awareness;
Awareness of my fractured conscious-juvenile-lobes, awareness of the undeniable existence, my existence;
Scary isn't it, how quiet it is?
How quiet it is in the midst of these rings;
I asked the singing winds, the tripping trees, the still pond, the moon that was wide awake now;
Stared at me, it did, asking me the same questions, those I asked;
"You choose the cold nights forgone with no one, or the warmest of noon in foresight with a hundred,"
Paused as it did, tickling my ears, as it did, it whispered again, quieter than the night sky;
"Or is it the tinge of your blind drunk dance across the streets with whom you call buddies?"
The moon smiles now, not the lonely smile past its bedtime, but the warmest of smiles as its prepared to face the night;
Quiet as it is, the happiest of hours is now, isn't it?
I understand now, I do;
What the stars, the moon, the wind, the pond, the trees meant, as I see them smiling under the moonlight;
Quiet is my soul now, seeing past the ocular rings of the past and the future;
As a hand pulls me into the wildest of rides, the ride called the present;
The present, the smiling faces picturing the beautiful world of today, loud yet quiet, imperfect yet perfect;
I see now what the universe did;
As the moon creeps past the grizzly clouds;
Night of insane quiet, a tinge purple down the lamp post, even quieter;
Quiet is the park, chirped it did, hours before, now quiet;
The stars dance on the rhythm of the now still-pond;
The rhythm of the trees dancing on the tune of the winds;
Oh, I feel loved, the quiet universe sings;
"The best gift to you is when you smile, as they smile."