Personality schism

When I was down beside the sea, A wooden spade they gave to me… But I didn’t pay much attention, because on my right, the full moon was rising, doing its silver-dollar thing across the ripples of the bay, and on my left, the sun was setting, slopping rose gold down the mountain and letting it run across the sea.
Should I bay to the moon or pray to the sun?
Or should I disappear into the black ink between?

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