Lightning Sketch - Fleeting Feelings

Fleeting Feelings

I have been awake now for four days. That’s four days of waking up, working, laying down at night and pretending to close my eyes as the sun reclines beyond the horizon and the sky dons the moon as the watcher of sleeping souls. So then would the moon be sorely cross with me for these days gone by, four of which drifted down the canal of lost time into a remoteness so vast as to render all deposits forever gone.
When I am awake, and not pretending to close my eyes and therein placating the very moon that sours her face at my wan, dull and lifeless expression – the implacable void of an ancient hollow stamped upon my rubbery face, I work. I work well. I feed those who need it and have a little left over for myself. I even dream. I dream of sleep and have waking visions of nightmares that should have happened as the moon tended to my restless soul in the waking nights.

Sometimes, when spare moments arise between the vague traditions of caloric intake and work, I remember what it is to feel, to thrive and know that zest for the sun, the moon and all the world that acts in consort with itself and acts as clock that tells the periodic time of the universe and life itself. Of this vast, magical and inspiringly calculated clock came a single universal second wherein I knew her feelings were fleeting and that what was left, was all that was left and more than the lowliest could hope for.
In time, the universal time measured by the dances of stars and planets, the times between food and work will open up and in that gap, like grass in a sidewalk, new life will grow.