As if it ever was,
The rasps of glass like razors
On the waters, where everything flows for us,
The understandings and agreements,
The sense the world was mad
(Present company excepted),
The thing we go to
That just keeps rushing in
With its storm brew
To puncture our make-believe,
Relieve the torque of the lies
We told to feel at home, in this place
Where such lies were understood
As the barter and trade they were,
Seagulls croaking, the brightest lie
Was the coin dove down for the deepest,
And so many fell, to the impossible place
One couldn't escape back to the known.
Miracles came, though, with the sun,
The local flora, it is all too easy
For the birds to fly by, the berries
To come through the ground from heaven,
As if it was any different than this,
For there is no loss of resonance
In the thoughts of hibiscus, the banana
Pepper's unspoken koan to us.
Still it is unknown, where it goes,
Where it came from, what
Inconceivable force rules it;
To the one at the table, holding cards,
There is not much in it for them
To have faith in the endlessness of endings,
In the fact of rapture, the elasticity of myth.
It's all too much to show one's hand,
Which is not a hand at all, that's what's difficult:
Silence intimidates the invisible.
One never knows how strange the familiar becomes,
And always how familiar the strange --
We are waiting for you to wake up,
Hurry, soon!
