Riding the Luna Moth
Riding the Luna moth to rainbow town, way off the ground.
She pirouettes, she hops, and she spins me around.
Are we fantasy, fiction or fully alive and true? I ask.
She says, “Does it matter?” and I drink from my flask.
I am loving today; it has begun so incredibly well.
If this is death, I certainly have not gone to hell.
Is it heaven? Or Nirvana? Or Never-Never-Land?
Up ahead I see a motley pirate band.
Do you feel lucky? The moth asks me in a weird way.
My eyelids flutter hard as I wake up at the break of day.
I close my eyes tight, trying to get back to my dream.
But my soul is planted hard now, gone is the moonbeam.
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