My moon is always full. It pretends to peek and wink, but I know it is out there. A friend recently described the reason for his moon tattoo. No one was really around when he was a kid, so he just talked to the moon instead. The moon was his father/mother/friend and remains to be so. At times in my life when the audience for my life was sparse, I looked to the moon for applause for my adventures. It is still there, white and gold, glowing silently with approval, even when I probably deserve none.
Prayers for the Ghost City by David Wilk Sentient beings depart earth in the grey dawn, homeless doves seek shelter. The moon shudders, a dark balloon in space. What is left behind cannot be saved. We are passengers on a lost journey to a new home. What remains behind cannot be forgotten. Long lost songs in the dirt filled air. Say your prayers for the ghosts and elders. https://tinyletter.com/DavidWilk/archive

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