Strands of Moonlight

strands of moonlight, steven humphreys, poet, poetry, poem, prose

I have a project for you.

I want you to go out to the next full moon, and take a look.

Stand there surrounding yourself in strands of moonlight.


Some calendars have gone queer these days and don’t show the partial and full moon…

Let them all be queer.

I mean, the calendars.

I don’t care what anybody does as long as they don’t take my rights away.

But, that’s what it’s coming to.

Those who want to take away our right to think how we want to think…

You know it’s coming

(when you fear your calendar has gone queer year after year.)

So, what I did was go to Farmer’s Almanac and marked when the full moon was on my own calendar for the whole year.

I have to do this, it seems, every year, now, because…

(Calendars seem to have gone queer.)

Maybe, it’s because I buy the cheap ones.

Thank you to Farmer’s Almanac!

I’ve done this for many years.

I mean, stand out in the moonlight

(also, marked my calendar because they’ve gone queer. And, even though you might think so, no, I’m not fixated on what’s queer in the world.)

It takes only a few minutes of your time

(I mean, marking your calendar and standing in the moonlight.)

What else would be a better thing to do?

watch re-runs?

See how it makes you feel to bathe yourself in moonlight.

Much in life comes out the way it does in the end because of how we think and feel.

Because, what we think is what makes anything matter…

why anything matters is because we decide it matters to us.

nothing that matters, matters because of something in it.

it takes us to think and feel it matters.

What speaks through me, speaks through you.

But, what is that?

You aren’t really sure if how you think is even your own voice.

Yes, that is the mystery of it, isn’t it?

We never quite know for sure where that inner voice comes from?

Is our sense of self an illusion, too?

Yes, you are right, all around us is an image.

Furthermore, we are an image, too…

Created by who?


I don’t think we created much on our own.

It came from somewhere else not under our control.

We don’t really know, do we?

I mean, we don’t know much about our sense of self…

Don’t worry, the scientists don’t, either.

But, the answer is written, nowhere…

The harder you look, the less you know.

The philosophers didn’t know…

And, believe me, the politicians don’t.

If you ask for an answer, there will be silence.

Silence is from God.

That’s why I’d asked you to stand in the moonlight.

And, while there, be silent.

God sits somewhere within the silence.

no one tells him where to be.

he’s where he wants.

and, where he doesn’t.

neither here, nor there.

can’t put a finger on it.

go ahead and try.

you’ll get nowhere, fast.

and, that’s it.

god is nowhere.

But, no matter who or what you are, if you are sensitive, you have suffered injustice just like I.

There was sex, drugs and rock and roll in the 60’s.

Most of us were not alive, then.

We were all still dead, waiting to be reborn, someday, soon…

But, music was my religious experience and still is.

I hear it in today’s music, which I happen to like a lot.

I remember ‘Disco.’

That was kinda’ cool, too.

Funny, how a particular note of sound can take hold of you and move you

to feelings you can’t quite explain…

I say,

If music makes your tears fall, maybe you are in the wrong business.

But, we are in the business of living, and someday preparing for dying,

aren’t we?

Might as well have a little fun along the way to that cliff we are all destined to drop off into the abyss below, alone…

We are too busy to think too deep.

It will only depress us, if we get down too deep in there.

So, we stay awake.

We preoccupy ourselves with what we think is real.

That’s better.

But, the music…

This music that touches me must be let out of heaven’s lofty gate.

It is ethereal, even eternal.

I swear to you that when certain sound frequencies touch my heart, it must come straight from God’s fiddle.

For those sensitive souls, I pray for their own brand of justice in a tune that will please them…

Some prayers are answered.

Some are not.

We suffer.

It’s supposed to be that way.

How else would we learn?

If we were all content and doing better

why would we want to change a thing?

We wouldn’t because we would be OK with

what was happening.

We wouldn’t question our existence if we were

contented cows.

I know I wouldn’t if I were a rich man.

Right now, I’d be sleeping counting my money.

I’d be eating food that’d kill me.

I’d be shopping for a new Mercedes.

I’d buy a Harley and ride with my rich friend lawyers and doctors.

I’d be closing that multi-million dollar mansion deal.

I’d adopt another kid.

I’d buy an expensive bottle of wine.

I’d own a lot more dogs and cats on a really big farm…

I’d sue somebody for what they did for me.

I’d run for President.


Where’s the justice for those done wrong who can’t do something about it?

Who speaks for them?

Who brings them justice?

There needs to be someone, a watchman, over all this…

I know there is something behind all this.

I mean, all this.

All this stuff we experience and see that keeps hanging around

in our consciousness’s…

I pray those evil bastards who take advantage of the weak and hurt others be cut down, and if I had the power, I’d most certainly do it.

I would make those who think they’re king s__t, humble.

But, I’m a fair man…

I would give them a choice.

Be humbled and lose that better than thou ego of yours or be exterminated…

I’d ask them how they’d like it.





Burn alive in their car?


Or, something original?

At least, give the poor bastard a choice in creating his own demise…

So, when the next full moon hits your eyes as you fall asleep, let the stillness of the whole thing slip in through your window shutters.

Ask for justice to be served.

Better yet, get up and go outside if it isn’t too cold…

And, think about what justice you deserve.

Better yet, become your own vigilante angel destroying evil by exposing it from where it hides.

Reach out and touch its darkness with sweet harmony and watch it disintegrate in the light of the next day when you sing your prayerful words.

Listen to that song that brings you away to where you’d rather be.

Take a strand of moonlight.

Pull it down.

Then, make it your own.

It’s about you and how you feel.

What else is there to live for?

Are you not trapped within your own experience of how you see things and feel about everything?

What things would you like to be carried out?

What about justice served for you?

Yeah, where’s your justice?

Is there any of that which speaks for you?

It will come as long as you keep looking around.

It will show itself in what happens to others around you.

You’ll see.

Be patient.

When it comes, it will be swift like a sword.

You will see it done when you least expect it.

Those lessons will be taught others.

No one escapes.

Sit back and watch the show.

It will go on, with or without us.

We are the viewer.

We are the teachers.

We are the student.

Without us, nothing would get done.

Without us, nothing would matter.

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