I have been to the moon.

That quiet, lonely place.

Where stillness and silence dominate.

I have processed the pain.

As overthinking took hold.

My heart in custody. No bail for my soul.

I have stood at the party.

While my mind knelt alone.

Down in a crater. My existence unknown.

My mind sent the riddles.

Which echoed like screams.

Through my every being. I was stuck in a dream.

My intuition blew the whistle.

And locked down the place.

Avoid all the others. Evade every face.

People need people.

But they forget us sometimes.

A shot through the heart. Such a shame. Such a crime.

But the moon offers light.

So I’ll go there again.

To process my peace. To recover my zen.