In These Times You Have to be Terribly Careful


27

As a result of being confirmed
As unable to breathe or think
Confined in the dark, my friends
That is how I know I am dead –
Only occasionally is my heart now moved
By the plight of mortals and

The weight, of their mischievous mortality
They can’t reconcile themselves
To their condition, since their
lives are so full of change
They raise their heads clumsily
Like infants, only to live with a limp

Fearing the inevitable, I was once
Like light, adjusting myself
In the crypt of empty space
As a result of being, after the symphony
As unable to hear the empty music
Confined in the light, my friends

That is how I know I am yet alive –
I will take every occasion thus
To let my heart be moved
By the awkward wonders here,
And the stems of silence like levels
Of the hotel of flesh, where the carpet
Of my biology is somehow too soft.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Petrova-3-412362390