Living Mad

Last night, I ventured outside to look at the full moon before going to sleep.

What a magical choice. I plopped down in the grass on top of a hill. I spotted a lone dandelion—white and round like the moon.

Just on the other side of the trees is a highway with cars whirring past. But I sat in stillness. Hearing the sounds of rushing vehicles blurring with the nighttime melody of chirping crickets.

The push and pull. How Piscean… I feel between two worlds, earthly and celestial; natural and spiritual. I sit with the grass under my hands looking up at the night sky. The concrete interstate, a murmur in my ears, feels like a world away, though separated only by fence and trees.

The feathered seeds of this dandelion in the final stages of life, ready to sow seeds for rebirth, exist in contrast with a younger version of this supposed weed in yellow bloom tattooed on my side. Hello friend.

It stands eclipsing the bright glow of the moon. It stands grounded between me and the stars.

Between me and a moon so full at the end of its lunar cycle. In Pisces, no less—the bookend sign of our twelve zodiac signs. My Sun, my Moon, my Mars, my Saturn.

We are meant to be where we are.

Dreams are within reach.