Stellular
this is the kind
of transcendental spiral
we can get used to, splashes
of color swathing
subconscious memory,
lost in an ethereal floral garden
where ghost hands brush
petal skin
the body is discontinued
here, defies gravity &
physical laws, straddles
dream & disjointed reality
we curse having to come back
from this, but the beauty
of returning is a pull
to continue on
the setting sun
is an alarm clock
for the nocturnal,
daydreams while
asleep are on another level
waking up in a starfield,
feeling celestial, super moon
shining down, is how
we find our footing
in a world operating
on fear fumes
sometimes
disconnection
has its benefits,
nights like these
are how we stay alive
Thistle Thoughts 