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In Need of Lethargy
I'm tired... But I don't think it's my body.
I'm sad... But I don't think I'm going to cry.
What happened?
I never claimed to understand myself.
I never thought to speak out loud.
If I pull the blankets closer, will cold go away?
If I shout a little louder, will they really hear?
If my throat becomes raw, does that mean I've said enough?
If my head aches with exertion, am I worthy of a rest?
Stretch your weary hands.
Smile that crooked way.
Feign that perfect outlook.
Yet fear the coming day.
One more step; the wall will crumble.
One more giggle; you'll be free.
Acting doesn't last forever; once in a while, the curtain falls.
Try harder, read faster; hear what isn't said.
Hear what these hands cannot relate; what this mind cannot infer.
Break the dam.
These eyes look on, and try to see.
The wall blocks them.
The brooke slams to again and again; constraints are not enough?
The wall blocks it.
A trickle falls throught the porous bricks.
Dust, exposing weakness.
The sun grasps at moisture, starved of satisfaction.
A beggar cannot live on dust.
Mere casualty hides incident.
Eyes that deign to shift; gaze that fails to fall.
No friendly hand repairs the wall, but no kind heart destroys it.
What does one do while in limbo?
If you have only half been passed?
What must one think, to be wise?
What must one hide, to be resourceful?
When the hunter ventures into the forest, he returns with a deer.
When a child reaches toward a dog, their hand strokes it.
But what of the archer who aims for a leaf?
What of the cat who chases the grass?
What of the archer who hits the target?
What of the cat who strikes the sparrow?
I hear the crowd.
I hear the murmurs.
How can they ever see?
The maple leaf cut perfectly in half.
The mole who retreated from digging his cave.
I hear the broken whispers.
I see the twisted brow.
These lips remain yet stagnant.
This face remains quite bare.
I turn away.
I compel my soul:
All humans are unique.
Yet their vision is of a limit.
Their minds work seperately from body.
Yet their acts speak otherwise.
I'm just like them; they're just like me.
Look on.
But then, how can I see?
I watch their eyes - their hands - their mouths.
I hear their voices - their obscene laughs.
I feel their touch - I believe their pain.
And it seems to be that they're just like me.
Yet I see their smiles.
I hear their cheers.
I see their pride.
I protect their fears.
Speak as if you understand.
Laugh - just a little louder.
Walk just a little taller.
Listen, please, just a little furter.
Speak, laugh, walk.
Speak, laugh, walk.
Acting never lasts forever; sometimes the actors join the audience.
Walk, laugh, speak.
Hide, think, attempt.
What happens when you are in limbo?
Where the fogs swirl without motion?
What happens when you are in limbo?
When you can only hope for the End?
I look around.
I see their eyes.
I feel my heavy wall.
I hear the way they speak to each other.
I watch the ways they touch.
I see the child, lost in the crowd, and think.
Thier eyes, their hands.
Quiver, quiver.
There it is.
The just like me.
They dart, and search, and pull on clothing.
They gasp, and cry; they've found their mother.
And just like that, the me is gone.
Their eyes - they're gone; the glisten missing.
A haughty remark.
That is what I'm missing?
I glance around.
No others are there.
The crowd swirls, without real motion.
Gravity disperses.
Of course tears can't fall to the ground.
Acting can't ever last forever; sometimes the stage just has to burn.
Anna_Aurion · Fri Nov 07, 2008 @ 06:26am · 0 Comments |
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