as deep as the ocean, as lonely as the moon.

to the moon and never back, i say to myself while staring at this blank white screen which is my canvas. i dream but i don’t sleep, i sleep but i don’t rest, i rest but i’m not at peace. what is peace? is it the calmness of the soul? or the cool summer zephyr at the beach; maybe it is a state of mind, maybe it is subjective. peace is not quiet, well not quite; when i look at the stars i feel at peace, are they at peace?

the letters on my keyboard stare at me, waiting for a story to be told, waiting for a poem to be penned; is any of it real? are any of the stories real? after all everything is in your mind, you are your mind, your body is a dead it’s your mind that is alive. but are you alive? are you alive?

you’ve heard this a lot, don’t just be alive but live your life. you only live once? wrong. you live everyday, you just die once. but do you die? i don’t believe anything or anyone ever dies. how can you die, how can you just cease to exist but that begs the question, what is death itself?

maybe we die every night and wake up in the morning, maybe people who die are just sleeping for a long long time; maybe their minds sleep but their bodies decay. and maybe when they sleep they dream, maybe then and only then are they at peace.