Wait for the substance of what is unseen
To replace what this moment will bring;
Feet tap in time for the beat to begin,
To be lost in the rhythm of expert oblivion;
Conscious velleity sways the menagerie:
Despite best intentions, desire persists
And insists on its carnival whirl;
Paper wings will transport you on present desire;
Outside, all is quiet in vain expectation,
No breeze to disturb the tranquility; waiting
For the night’s picaresque to begin
Wafting and sinking in absent arms
Perceiving absinthine electric desire.
Reality shatters, gradations of blue
Reflected in translucent shadows of memory.
Welcome deceptions, illusion’s creations,
Intenser passions than this sterile world:
Who are we to dictate what should not exist?
For only this moment, the world is assenting—
Believe fabrication, ignoring the jester
Who waits for the innocent,
One unsuspecting,
To create his finale in front of the king.
The senseless illusion he has allowed
Is the substance of our entertainment;
The crowded sky waits for the farce to begin.
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