the moon and me

last night i enjoyed a refreshingly different night out with friends, where instead of heading to the pub, we sat stayed at home (or rather, a friends house), ordered pizza, drank beer (which admittedly isn't different at all, but one can't rush these things), listened to music and chatted about stuff and nonsense. with the new year - and new baby less than 3 weeks old - ushering in a hectic time for me, i've been feeling sorry for myself of late specifically regarding my lack of social life and my relationships and interaction with people.

basically i'm paranoid that i'm becoming a different person to the gregarious and outgoing individual i'd always prided myself on being, and i'm sure i'm not the only male in his mid-to-late-thirties that sometimes doesn't recognise the person he's become. my night out/in didn't offer any revaltory insight into my thoughts, or offer any explanations or quick-fixes, but it was much needed after a christmas of enforced isolation, and a pick-up that made me feel like me again.

anyway, i walked there and back ('enjoying' nearly an hour's worth of sorely-needed exercise), with the lager-enhanced return journey being especially enjoyable mainly due to the company of a bright glowing moon 'following' me home. it's a simple pleasure that i hope points to the purity of a poet's heart, and something (along with the sky and stars) that never fails to humble and astound me.

The Moon and Me (unfinished)

the moon reflected, paused, and smiled back down at me
cast adrift in his own inverted ocean
travelling across the sky and seas
drifting slowly upwards gracefully

where do you go? where did you come from?