the moon is a cradle
        I lower my thoughts
into it gently
        my feelings

its light
        casts shadows
across the darkness
        and brings comfort

I know that I am
        not alone
in the emptiness
        of the universe

        when I write
I realize that words
        have a mind of their own

that I am powerless
        over their meaning
that their viral load
        can create unease

what synchronises
        the warm breath
of human bodies
        we call love

the only known
        antidote to chaos
we call the desire
        to make art

John Lyons


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