Are we not all perhaps puppets of one big light show?
Are we not all perhaps puppets of one big light show?
At the slight caprice in the business between celestial bodies,
Don’t we change our skin from light to thick?
As the stars engage in a leisurely tango
pulling closer and drawing apart just for the laughs
Didn’t our Ancestors weep for our destiny?
Store 13.8 billion years of incessant expansion
In the twelve months calendar of human beings
The entire history of intelligence can be told
Before a pin flung into the air touches the ground
not one soul’s existence lasts longer than a yawn
But let us play pretend
Assemble a circus of illusions and trickeries for this lifetime,
place ourselves in the night sky,
name a star or two.
When the lights in the vacuum enter their annual carousel ride
let the celestial migration be at our expense
We, the centre of proportion
Our significance, the gravitational field of the orbit
When a light collides with another
let us call it destiny
And count stars as we own it
Over 50 times in a day the illusion slips out of our minds
We disappear lest we hang on to our names
Tremble if not held
Forgotten if not ardently promoted
Not a single soul is bound to the fabric of the universe
There is nothing we can change
We are just another ‘anything’ among the abundance of ‘something’
Over 50 times in a day, we must pick up the fragments of our shattered illusions,
return to the theatre of our construct
Filled with make-believe actors and imaginary audiences
As long as our eyes can fool
and mind can dream
We will have our back against the main stage of reality.
And that is how we will make it through another day.
