Bloated on city noise, bright lights,

cheap whiskey and bad luck, he

ventures elsewhere, away from

anxiety filled days and sleepless nights

makes his move across rutted back roads

to the deep country, a cabin off the beaten path

secluded, silent, only the whispers of wind to keep

him company

By chance he

catches his shadow spilling across 

a still lake, shaded in forest

under a blood moon, 

and the celestial bodies speak, open his eyes

to the world

his old life slips away, a fleeting dream

and all that is left

is the present moment

and deep unadulterated night