Blue Moon Poem by Rhys Owens

Over hills, blue eyes, the sea:
Across the skies, play your mystic mandolin
The tune of night of Death-returned,
Home, in search of home,
Forevermore.

The blue moon waning, falling star
Sparks, lights up a purple sky,
Tiny diamonds, violets,
Forget-me-nots, on the train:

Howling, the wolves I see from my seat
Out the window, the fields go by so slow.
Vast and unnameable lands.

Dark, perturbed pensiveness;
Mad clown night bar
Where drinks are slaughtered like swine.
Mint-colored pool tables, checkered dart boards,
The seedy love patrons, get away, get away:
Back into the night, where dead things come back.

Whistling fields, some, the stalks sway to and fro,
The cosmic twilight's breeze dipping in and out of abduction.
Summer glow-worms, tackle-bait laying dead
In permanent statues on the graveled turn-offs.
But you are walking, you keep walking.

Mystic mandolin, strapped your shoulder―
A hundred days, one endless night.
High into the mountains, ethereal dreams of the sea.
A blue-eyed maiden waiting, train wrecked so far away.
An ancient Queen, pillar of loneliness,
Awaits the highway, finally. To be directed, paved,
Up to her land. Up to her door.
Where she waves the elemental key.
The skeleton key to her bones.

Stardust,
Closet windchimes sprinkling monsters
In rooms you stay, but you don't live.
Along the road, stopped for the night―
Whether guitars around a camp fire, cheap motels,
Or random boardings, creatures finished
Along the floor.

Desperate stages, of life on the banks
Of death defying rivers, currents, melodic currencies
Filtering decent verse; dark night roads,
Daytime highway hustlers.

The same is true in every heart and town.
It should be so easy to stick to the heart. It is.
In the highways, overground. Those nocturnal,
Supernatural planes―we have no time.
Let God whisper all He wants.
Just never to be too loud.

In the highways, painted sky,
With twinkling stars, wishes made,
Clean, and crystallized.
Pure dream:
Homesickness, home away from home,
Across the sea.

Don't forget to play the song;
And dance, dance!
Never too young,
Never too young
To dance.

All the same,
Images, dreams, wants needs;
―Places, sidetracks, songs.
Play the song.
Play it anyway.
Play it, new.