the sleeping symphony
it takes one
to know one
so the saying goes
but the trouble I’ve found
is that, as you become one,
you begin to see through everything
until all of it
fades away completely
leaving you alone
on the streets of Byzantium,
standing in the sunlight
checking your phone
and picking your nose
after a while
you begin to grow weary
and consider calling out
hello?
but think better of it
were it to call UP
something, anything,
from the simulation
you just escaped from
—and after a lifetime of trying
that's something
you're just not willing
to risk
sure, it’s not the surprise party
you were expecting
(you figured at least one person would attend)
but the silence
is definitely preferable
to the din of the illusion
from back 'then'
BUT
time feels different here
and you find yourself wondering
just how long
the vision can hold
in the face
of all the imminent questioning
because (it starts already)
without any frame of reference
it could be
that this isn’t it at all
but some other thing altogether
—purgatory, or some loser ‘quantum probability heaven’
where you’re not, in fact, on some new 'level',
but just pretending,
pretentious,
irreverent in your new found reverence
for all of the emptiness
of the so-called 'betterment'
you've been asking for
all this time
—and good god
you don't want to be one of those people
regardless
going it alone,
here
with no place to go
is, i suppose
better than nothing
(TRUST NO ONE)
because, at least
there's room to attend
to your own questioning
FIRST
without having to contend
with the din of the questions
of all the others
pouring endlessly in
from every direction
that back 'then' was composed of
back 'then'
in the wake of the sleeping symphony
that grew eventually into cacophony
and delivered you here,
finally,
onto the empty streets
of this strange & lonely waiting room
where you are, at least,
free enough, now,
to wiggle your toes
and clean your navel
in peace
waiting patiently,
hopefully,
for the arrival
of that one, fabled other
to juxtapose
and confirm
that this is, indeed,
the party
you’ve both been counting on
Image: art of line