Moonlight Edvard Munch

some of those stones have dreams they watch every night thinking someone just like them paved a path to the moon it looks that way ~ so possible but long ago, they sunk into the sediment there's no movement there anchored unreassuringly to the sea bed yet still exposed that blanket of ocean is stolen from them each night but when they open their eyes their very best dream is unfolding with their memory short they are lulled once again by the ripples and moonlight and the endless possibilities of dreams once asleep, the night swallows the moon the trees sprout rungs for the night to climb down to eat away at the edges whilst the stones dream of journeys that account for their missing comrades because that isn't blood on the beach stones have been told they don't bleed a story whispered to them by their blanket the blanket that leaves them cold and exposed when they wake to a moonless night they'll just close their eyes and wait I don't know if they'll submerge into darkness beneath darkness because I just walked by with my own problems and never looked back