Black & White Reality

What hides the moon late in the night in the shape of dark black clouds reflected on the mirror face surface of the sea brought to life from the little hazy dim, not so dim, not so bright light of the moon seeping through the thin film dark clouds like a false inspiration in a sleepless mind bringing out the ultimate realization of the greatest beauty of darkness at its blackest best running around, flowing, all molten like that idea or a memory or a thought wished to be forgotten, to be wiped away off a mind, to be wiped off the behinds of a closed eye disturbed on and off by fake images of mirages of happiness or some emotion special creeping its way into the senses making the hair stand on one’s neck and the back of hands wishing secretly if it were real, knowing well it’s not real, just like life, just like the minutest living moment whiled away with all possible recognition of the filling of nothingness inside the empy bowl thought pot hidden inside the skull in every detail – the way wet ink blots through and on blotting paper – possibly evaporated dreams for all we know, or oh, may be the lightest wishes wished upon burning stars falling stars, shooting stars shooting off horizons into the deep depths of the silent silent ripple skinned sea so calm, so warm or so they seem to be, wiping away every doubt of the existence of little grains of sand on the shores complete with every footstep ever walked upon making their way to their unknown homes, unknown destinations of the moment wishing to hear what they want to hear when knuckles go knocking on wooden planks of the doors hiding behind them the rich hollowness of whatever is there inside or whatever is not there inside and them occupying souls?

The End.