Bicycles ran as honey over my drums
And our moon did gift goosebumps of gratification
As I thanked her for lighting my way,
Though little did I know of any way.
Sycamores on the skirts
Silhouettes as the space of everything possible to know,
Though not by me.
And a road in the yonder
Blessed with direction but little destination
And lights with no enlight
Beyond the A and the B.
Neither would exist here.
Our moon wandered me to the centre of my black
The artificial glow of secure insecurity shone down the path
In competition with the light of question
And winning for proximity, against the will of its beholder.
The glimmer of all we know does poison all we wish upon
And none I know had witnessed the glow of family
Before the glow of our exploit.
The black and the bicycles did dance with me here
Holding me still and staring in a separate place
Beyond sight and will we remained still and yet forever moving in mind
Together and all alone.
Revered and haloed above the horizon
Had lost her family
Save the greatest persevered
Who would speckle our sky with a limp recollection of its wonderful dance.
And how sad it must be
To reach our Earth and never be seen
To twinkle for life and not one will wish.
The black and the bicycles will mourn with me here
For our lost friends and our lonely family would dance amongst us
If only they were able.