Same Day Bloog

Bloog - a typo that I appreciate.

I found it on the other side of the sunrise
where the moon was left to play with stars, and
everyone enjoyed the dark
because the noise was soft, and
the lights were dim, and
nothing seemed to matter like it does
when the sun is beating down on us
like it is today.
So just wait
for the other side of the sunrise
when the sky is a pink reflection
of the victories and failures of today.

Tomorrow this will look different. I'll probably hate it. I'll probably say, what were you thinking when you thought this was any kind of poetry? You are not a poet. You are a fool with a good vocabulary, a fool who thinks too much about things that amount to nothing in the end. But then, so does everyone else. And very little matters in the end - so what else would I think about? As I justify my self.