It Didn'T Matter Poem by Claudia Krizay

It didn’t matter if the moon was full last night, and that I did not count the stars-
Or that the birds were singing upon early morning awakening,
Forty or some odd years ago- or perhaps even before then-
A full moon evoked fantasies of fortune, mystery and desire to know
What existed beyond my own back yard-
Stars were a million light years away and
Brought to mind none but curiosity and fascination-
I never knew why birds sang and hardly cared- as
Their songs were hymns of enchantment,
In tune with love of nature at the rising of the sun -
The dawning of a new day was reason for celebration.
I do not know if the moon was full last night
The sun could rise this morning and
This world could cease to exist-I am lost inside a world of my own
Where I live inside the fortress of my thoughts,
Spoken words echo about my mind and
Inundate with fear, rage and terror-here inside the tenement of my delusions
I have been commanded by voices echoing about the chambers of my mind
To lock the door to actuality, and to toss its key to the wind outside-
The songs of the sparrows have evaded me and
I no longer care to witness the rising of the sun, or
The dawning of a new day, and have become quite a stranger to myself-
It doesn’t matter if the moon was full last night
And not only the stars are a million light years away- as seemingly are
Hopes and dreams for a promising future I had as a child-
I stare upward towards the ceiling counting
The stars that are a figment of my imagination-
Inside the world of my thoughts, dreams and apparitions
I am being inundated by a phantasmal though provocative meteor shower, and
Trapped inside hell’s brushfire that no rainstorm can extinguish;
It has been said that dancing beneath the full moon can bring about loss of sanity-
Hiding inside the safe haven of my fondest dreams
I could be found wishing upon one of those stars
Some millions of light years away-
While I have become a lost soul with no destiny-
Dancing beneath that fickle light of the moon, mistrustful of all intruders, I could be-
Hell’s brushfire has burnt down the bridge that connects veracity to unreality-
Even though it may always remain in question
To whether or not the moon has remained full past midnight as would be hidden behind
Clouds of apprehension, I can still
Wish upon those stars after the day the sun burns out-and perhaps some day
I may find hope, peace of mind and fortune as near as within my own back yard…