Windy Light

All the nights we'll ever have
Were born to different mothers.
Free of all the tabu
Any one has known of.

Lone. Herdsman. Upon a hill.
Zooms 
By the remaining day,
Our eyes blurred with earth colors.

Has such fine zebu
As only he has
Songs and numbers for,
Such as you'll never

Hear,
I reckon.
In Payom.

He sees all through us.
By reason of which
We see him. Just. As
We think that we do.

Who will sing Paquita,
Alone, when we're all out
Of this picture,
At last?

Free, alas, at last.

Amidst all this doubt,
Who will tell mama
What we've been through,
Poking the secrets of laughter?

The unbearable truth of sadness.

Who'll send, again,
All the lyrics
We couldn't remember
Only yesterday.

Songs
That perished with the mailman,
That we would like to sing, right
Now?

In the marketplace
All the messages are gone
Crazy
Fuzzy,
No one knows what's happening.

To all the things in our hands.

All the lights
Are blinking.
Green amber and red.
And over and over.

In billowing threads.
In windy light, then!
Alone.

In
A falsified
Solitude comes,
Anew,
The messenger.

Blue Marble Gaia

Here's my toast
To Blue Marble
Gaia.

Upside-down upside.
As seen.
Aboard Apollo
17,
Moonward. 

That
December 7,
1972.

++++++++

Here: Click


_____________________________________________________
Reference: 
http://www.ehartwell.com/InfoDabble/Apollo_17:_The_Blue_Marble

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