picture yourself walking in a large,
dark room
for years and years and years
there are glimpses of distant lights every now and again,
so you keep on walking
and you know you are not blind,
biologically at least
you can hear the sound of the Earth spinning
in the distance,
hunger and thunders remain
loud
soft voices
echo
the faith and despair at dusk
like an eternal radio of memories
good songs
I remember the sun, invisible,
its violent explosions
and its power
upon the mad ones
under toxic nights,
as love moves through delicate fingers
and soft skin burns up the galaxy
it is another birthday poem
and it calls our names from the darkest rooms
and the wildest, most vulnerable nights
as we travel through space
as we travel through time
once again
happy birthday
