Walking in aimless circles
With half of the yellow sun
A season of migration
Destination anywhere
Journey to the edge of the night
Fractured karma
Stolen prayers
Paper moons avoid burning candles
A reunion of familiar ghosts follow me
Sharing stories that can’t be untold
Bright lights
An alarm clock sings
A jolt opens my eyes
Looking far into the distance
The road ahead shorter than behind
White pigeons
Crimson wings
Muted sirens in the sky
A new companion for the journey
Each day is now alive
Originally posted July 31, 2015
toshtamurapoetry.wordpress.com 
Half the sun. Paper moon. (Applause)
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