Ruby Moon.

"A blind man in a dark room - looking for a black hat which isn't there."

She sleeps. Quiet, silent, restful. Music-box ballerina dancing out her lullaby. A single pirouette, all while she sleeps. All limp and full of dreams. Hopes, ambitions, wanting, needing. Did you know her? Past tense. Where did she go? Past tense.

She's not here now. Shadows leap about you, and you only notice that they make you feel cold. Shudder. Like leaving the back door open. Shudder. Was it open when she disappeared? Past tense. 

Don't trust the wizard. And if he gives me hope? Don't trust the wizard. I wish he were here now. I wish we could wind back all the clocks. I used to wish a lot of things. Past tense.

And none of it matters now. Not that it matters. Not that it ever mattered anyway. But whose decision was that? Who made that call? Who took the shots? Unless it's all your fault? It's all your fault. And doesn't that make you feel tense? Doesn't everything?

And there's another one. Her allure so strong. Her perfume so toxic. And what do you get from her? Nothing but a mouthful of ash and a handful of lies. Nothing but a bookshelf of memoirs. Memories. Lifelines. Cloudy, rushed, spherical and coloured by the binding lights that snatch at you and take you away - leaving me in the dark with all these blackened objects, burnt and crumbling, but then you can't see them anyway. Because they don't exist. Does anything? 

Oh but there she is again. Still asleep. And you don't know what she's dreaming of. Do you understand the nightmares? Did you hear about her horrors? Can you listen to her silent screams that pull and tug and gnash in her mind? Music-box ballerina spinning her last pirouette. 

Bet you'd never noticed that. Past tense.

*inspired by Ruby Moon - an Australian play by Matt Cameron.