Friday, October 21, 2011

The Players

Sitting, waiting, hoping, knowing.
Wishing, wanting, holding, knowing.
Swirling waves, touching glimpses,
Riding spirals, lives unfolding.
Housed within visceral virtuals,
Constructed illusions of realities splash --
Across this screen.
Such convincing creators are we,
Fooled...lost...within our own Reality.
I sit on the knee of God,
Turn, glance back
Over my shoulder,
...And find me.
Beaming reels of stories and scenes
On films unfurling from my eyes,
Projecting on screens
Like words and seeds,
Sprouting roads and trees,
Thoughts and deeds,
Illusory fears and imaginary needs.
Where does it lead?
Does not exist, son.
It sits with When, conspiring with How
In the great forgetting we bought
When we left our hat at the door
So we could take our seats
And enjoy the show.

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