A remarkable performance.
with ups and downs,
downs and ups,
wee, wee, woo!
The audience applauds, the actors bow, and oh do they bow,
for what a show!
wee, woo, woo!
Everyone began leaving the scene: the audience, the performers,
I sat in my seat and clapped, clapped and clapped to my own audience.
You should have seen it,
I had stolen the show,
here I come!
Wee, wee, woosh!
And I would stand in my magnificence to cheers, and I would bow myself.
But when it was all over, I found yet again,
that there was only me.
And there were no woo’s, no wee’s, just me.
And I laughed at my fears, and they laughed at me.
For I was not content to die, for whom it seemed to be, as: me.
I remember when there was time.
That was different,
and I wasn’t caught with this feeling,
that everything was just collapsing.
I was standing among the ruins
looked so sweetly at me.
It was a moment all for myself, the delight in your eyes, the smile on your lips, the sweet smell of lilacs about the air, and me, in shambles, about the ruins that were my home.
I turned my back to you and knelt in the ruins,
And when I turned around you were gone,
I couldn’t believe it.
There was no where to go to, so I assumed you would be back.
And as my efforts became trivial,
I too felt a sense of calm,
of knowing that there will be a time, when I will be gone too,
and all was for nothing.
Shattered days, walk alone. Time again, to find the cold.
Searching for, but never found,
Over time and necessary signs.
We have broken a trust most dear,
Yet we can laugh with an uncanny thought,
That it could never be,
I pleased myself a day of relaxation and all I found were thoughts of a troubled day. I heard calls of work piling upon each other, begging me to rescind them of their duties. And I would pace about my room and relax, yes relax, lie down, relax. Relax to the demands of time and its timer incessantly clicking, tick tock, gone. And all I felt was an inner tension, a guilt to be spending anymore time on my sea of relaxation. So I stood once more, and walked over to the window, to the quiet shorelines that gleam and bounce its incandescent rays of light peacefully to me -the peace I so desperately sought- and then, only then, did I turn to my work: dying.
What I said to make it so,
Again I find that everything is as is.
The stars shine, the days wane, the suns fade.
There is a perpetual motion about it all,
glorifying and mystifying in its ways.
And as I stay to understand it all.
I again find that everything was not as it was.
I stumbled upon a path and found myself staring at a sign,
As I read its description, of the two different paths I could take, I found myself standing, contemplating, and mulling over the possibilities of each path.
What would each bring me?
And so I stood there and thought.
Others passed me as I waited, choosing their paths with utmost confidence, without a moment’s hesitation and perhaps with more reckless haste and decisiveness than I could garner.
Ill-fated for me, the sun began to set and I had yet to reach a conclusion,
I would find myself sitting upon the gravel with the starry sky above me instead of a warm home,
And I felt the coldness of reality, and it was good: so I savored it.
You feel a restlessness about it all,
And it dawns upon you every time that perhaps things are not so different,
The ups and downs,
It seems as if they have all amounted to the same trends,
Predictable and humorous in its movements, you silently observe,
There doesn’t seem to be an end to it, just constant movement,
Ultimately leading to the same place every time.
It is futile to wish for anything else,
So you wait for it all to finally reach the end,
Independent of your will.
There was something mistaken in the looks I saw around me,
I hadn’t expected this,
Didn’t think I deserved the fate I had coming,
Beyond my belief, beyond what I could dream.
And around my past I searched for the voices,
I heard the voices of doubt, of encouragement, of the skeptic.
And I was wrong to think anything of it.
There was nothing to solve or gain,
Yet I insisted upon the strict answering of my questions that would please my ears and save myself from a deception in play, only to see that I was the skeptic.
And I saw through the eyes of a skeptic the inevitable failure and purposelessness of it all.
I was lost to no one but myself,
And here I was brought, to return and finish as was started.
There is no good way to describe the situation I am in,
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,
There are two ways to head down, and neither seems to be so appealing,
With troubled ways you find a way to choose one,
And still you waver across the border,
Find that it was not all it was cut to be,
And there is nothing to do about it.
There is a wait; an about to live through
And at each intersection you find yourself closer to closure,
A closure you have never felt before, closing in slowly on you.
It never reaches.
At each turn it seems to prolong itself, the inevitable, the great anticlimactic end of it all.