Worry Rusts the Moon

pools of thought, autumn forests of sadness, of happiness. worry rusts the moon as it peers through its silver radiance. can you see the sun lurking beneath our feet? it is giving life to what we are presently unable to see. lights continue to flicker between the trees. each trunk is a pole that divides the obtainable from the impossible. it is difficult to fathom the depth of our sky. the blinding pinpricks that aid our existence - they are destroyed and reborn perpetually.