Metamorphosed Rocks

Sunlight scurried by

And it’s set abruptly died.

There’s a full moons angled gleam

Erecting series’ of fluttering eyes.

It seems to stream brighter beams

Which scream from the skies(like a dream).

The town wore a squint

And visions were adapted

In compensation of the tint.

With everyone impacted

And practiced, status quo maintenances enacted,

We’re oblivious and distracted

Our blind vacancy

And acquired latency

Sums complacency.

Toward that moonlit glow,

Practically we sew, until there’s nothing left to show.

To remain orthodox,

We know, neither to go, too high or to low.

We’re metamorphosed rocks.

You’re there now!

Don’t ask me how.

Poem by Chandler Thomas