6695. ENTERTAINMENT DIES SLOWLY

ENTERTAINMENT 

DIES SLOWLY

Here at the end of the Heavens, all we get is the

Moon. It is sometimes shattered, other times splashed;

shading itself on certain nights all runny and liquid

along the face of the sea  -  light reflected upon the

rolling of waves. Mesmerized, we stare back.

-

There are a few boats, tattered maybe, worn and tired,

which just stay afloat to ride the water's rise and fall.

Tethered to whatever it is they connect, nothing much

happens. They just rise and fall, rise and fall, with the

slap of the water shouting their hulls. It is peaceful,

not edgy at all  -  as is the moon, changing size

and changing color as it moseys along its way.