Just FYI

my luxury is time
my profession does not matter
i do not spend time in sleep
i walk
even at night to talk with the moon
and listen to the stars
my time is short
but my mind is expanding like that space
between the two of us
we search for nothing
we find nothing in return
my profession is dead
i am still alive
the moon in silence talks a lot
and the stars are jealous
i diffuse myself as air in space
now i am everywhere
and then you begin to ask
why

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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