Diana

Open your eyes. If you lost your senses here have mine & lose yourself when the sun goes down, then other stars will appear on a black background and waves crush at your feet. The surfing board under your left arm near that pounding heart of yours. “ Just one more wave” you will say, tightening that bandage around your right wrest where you cut it when the last wave had thrown you so hard on the rocks of the shore. You will ignore the fact that you don’t know how to surf. You will follow the Myths of Diana. The urge of speaking to the so called Diana the goddess of the moon who lives beneath, near the bottom of the Atlantic will move you like a Marionette. You always assumed that if you are alone near to her, letting your feelings flow through the cold waves & somehow into her veins, her children of shadows of the moon will hear you and approve of you living with them over there to watch the dying stars while they give birth to others even more brighter . On the moon, the core of her heart you will watch the nebulae and will call out her name. “Diana” you will shout “Goddess of the moon” you will shout some more “you broke my heart”, then you will shout no more.