Pleas of Futility

A Far Away Lens: A Moon's Perspective

December 25, 2023 11:52am - 12:14pm

I look down and around at all of the things that surround me. There's all these sounds to be found on the ground, but I float free. And I'm locked in this cage, no, crate, maybe a crater; but my eyes, they are free, and they freely choose to wander.

I look down at the crowd that surrounds this town, and instantly I know that it should be the other way around. But these towners they rejoice and they cry and they laugh. But these towners also have blood in the same tubs they drink and bath.

I look down at the ground and notice the trees. They stand tall, and proud, and they fall so beautifully.... they stand tall and proud, and we cut out their feet?

I look down at the ground, and still even further, and notice overlapping sounds of hysterical laughter. Notice the quick breaths they draw as their ribs break and bruise; pressured into diamonds, as their bodies choose to refuse the obscene requests that they're falling prey to.

I'm looking down at the ground at chaos and disaster. A world distressfully bleeding out, and patching with bandaids thereafter. I mean, absent of hope, and hopelessly drowning; but tiny voices are being heard and the darkness is brightened.

I look down at the ground at the next generation. Their voices are dimmed, but slowly they're listening. Billions of bright ideas crammed inside their heads: and as I look down, I find my eyes glued to them instead.