They’ve opened up the moon to mining.
We have opened the moon to be mined.
The news rakes my insides raw.
Somehow it, amid the chaos of now,
pushes so far beyond the line
I can barely stand.
Yet
this is where we are.
And what tiny thread appears for me to follow,
thin as for sewing on a button,
is in total,
Love it while it’s here.
Love it while it’s here.
And, really, might that truly be
our utmost in the end:
Love it, whatever it is, while it’s here.
You are such an incredible poet love. And I had not heard, absurd, disturbed…
On Sun, Apr 12, 2020 at 10:28 AM Salt, Smoke, and Stone wrote:
> feralpoet posted: “They’ve opened up the moon to mining. We have opened > the moon to be mined. The news rakes my insides raw. Somehow it, amid the > chaos of now, pushes so far beyond the line I can barely stand. Yet this is > where we are. And what tiny thread appears f” >