Something I wrote when I was 25.

Maybe I will float until I am level with the moon – and from there, where there is no day – from that vantage point, I will see the sleeping heads and writhing naked bodies and breast-feeding mothers and adult children holding the hands of their dying parents and I will hear adolescents weep in their sleep and I will watch addicts in ritual, cleaning the blinds while blasting Guns ‘n Roses, and maybe then it will all make sense.

Maybe I will continue to levitate and join god/goddess and I will be suspended right there next to him/her and from there I will watch the scope of it from birth to death to birth to death to birth and all the filler: the books read and the sex had and the tears shed and the drugs ingested and the religions and faiths lost and found and lost and found and lost again. I will hear the music made and I will watch the delusions created and the lies told, then the coming clean and the real revelations. Maybe then – maybe then I will understand.

And then I will leave the heavens and cycle back down to the dust from whence they claim we came and from deep inside the compost of decaying leaves and wormshit and layer upon layer of decomposing animal skin bits and the dead parts of trees and confusing pieces of blue plastic I will watch as everything is reborn. Seeds will sprout and mammal mothers will feed on the sprouts to nourish the new animals growing in their wombs and dogs will shit the digested cereal that sustains them onto me, but it’s more food for the insects and everything is where it should be. Maybe then – maybe then the questions will be answered.