rought draft 1, moonwalker

my mind has been out of sorts of late
old mirror images of Self have been tremulously lurking
in shadows where they shouldn't be.
i am thinking of you on moonlit nights
of phases and phrases of late
nights of whispers and owl eyes
blinking sheepishly into others Darkness
it seems so alien from our own suffering
and we suffer alone.
Alone we deal with so much
so many burdens now we shoulder over and over
and over sidewalks and down the steps
clippity clump our Souls thump with the cluttered baggage
strewn over these scapulas and skin
which we are in Alone.
Until our loneliness calls for another
and we yearn to touch skin and feel alive
and whole and whole lifetimes go by
without the touch of a single common hand.
how bland is a safe life
but what is safe?
We trust no one with our burdens and those we dare trust
we throw our burdens upon them as if
they are not already weighted down
and betrayed again by our own needs
we slog down the road to the end of our lives
passing strangers we should call friends
passing family we treat as friends
passing friends we do not call family
waving and smiling
we trot onwards, upwards we fool ourselves
into thinking thinking too much
will make us sadder
but if we could remember to feel
and think in the same footstep
and shake off our guilts and hope, fetters
which keep us from sharing glimpses of moonlit Soul
on starry night -
why we could walk hand in hand
and touch and talk
and share the bags
lighten the load without unloading
forget the burdens
dance in the street
sing on the path
love every moment and each individual
like we want to be loved and love
this place where we've all been put
for who knows what reasons except
the clippity clump
clump clump clump of our Souls
as they dance
out of step
in rhythm
to the mutual beating
of our loving pumps.