Moon at Half Past Noon

She films a TikTok, moves on air,
Dance goes viral, the vibes beyond compare.
Her phone’s her stage, she’s owning the trend,
Feels like the queen of a world without end.
But pixels are power, and power’s just coal,
The earth’s old juice in a new TikTok scroll.
The universe shrugs, no likes to collect,
It’s snare a chill, no clout to inspect.

He designs a hoodie, drip so clean,
Streetwear drop makes the crew go supreme.
His hustle’s a glow, he’s building a name,
Thinks this fit’s gonna rewrite the game.
But cotton’s from plants, and plants from the dirt,
No new threads change what the cosmos is worth.
The balance stays tight, no profit to show,
Just energy swapped, the same even flow.

They dream of a vlog from a spaceship’s deck,
Space influencer life, that’s the ultimate flex.
They’re hyped to go big, leave Earth in the dust,
Post cosmic vibes for the galaxy’s trust.
But ships burn fuel, and fuel’s ancient goo,
The stars don’t care what a vlogger can do.

The ledger just tallies, no loss or applause,
All dreams, all hustle, obey the same laws.
We post, we create, we shoot for the stars,
Think our big moves leave permanent scars.
But every bold flex, every loud new scheme,
Is just old energy chasing a dream.
No wins, no fails, in the cosmic account,
The ledger’s even, same total amount.