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By Ali Date: 2007 Oct 25 Comment on this Work [[2007.10.25.21.26.3528]] |
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This morning, it looks like rain, again. And it hits me, still, like a hurricane. I could find the words, precise and imperfect. I know this haunting wreckage well. I know the pretty arrangement of such blind ruin. And out of the chaos comes creation. Out of creation comes more chaos. The connection, the care that surfaces, over and over again--it's not history repeating, blindly. No, this is something of a resurrection. And the mask comes off. The mask. But whose? Mine or yours? Yes, you think you know me. You think you have the contours memorized, and that is your truth. The end of the beginning, the beginning of the end--it ends. We end. But it doesn't, and we don't. It's just a shadow. A convenient trick of light, in the middle of a dark moon, a clever shadow. But a shadow speaks of things you don't want to consider, and, the mask off, I begin to grasp the reality of your face, the reality on your face. And I could pity your circumstances, the bleak banal fabric of your unaccustomed existence--the grail out of your grasp, the brass ring that pivots backwards at the last second. I see it all in the false smoothness of your stride. The slightly hesitating confidence, the break in your flawless smile. I've seen the hitch in all your offered promise, the world that shadows you from the inside out. I've witnessed the way you fall, without falling at all. Or so you say. Or so you offer. It's a pretty lie you manufacture, out of self-conscious devastation. You hide and never admit it. It's easy to convince yourself of what you already want to believe. And you turn your face away, ever-so-slightly. Sometimes that is enough. But the mask is off. And I feel the tension in this silence, utterly sweet and vicious. A dichotomy of nothing--and everything. A now-chronic condition of fears that bespeak goodbye--a failsafe. A bad habit. The enduring illusion of control. It's the only outlet you have, before the stars start to seize and shudder. Before you can't bear it, any longer, and you give in, without realizing it. Before you're too deep in the dark to relinquish these moments. But I've stepped in, again, out of some once-abandoned sense of hope. Or complete lunacy. And, as the rain falls furiously, I finally understand. The silver pieces of revelation, interwoven, glitter even in the dark. Unpolished and beautiful--but real. Like the suddenly enchanting ring around the moon--the kind that appears tonight. Underneath all this, I've found your common ground, again. And I've removed the illusions from your sight, carefully and delicately, as if I am trying to keep the balance, rather than offset it. In these moment of reckless discovery, clever anticipation, and brilliant echoing desire--I smile. I smile as if I know an incandescent secret. I smile as if I do, because I've unearthed more than you know. And that illumination, whether in moonlight or sudden dark, predicts something beyond your precious-seeming distance. I recognize more than just your reasoning, now--and I've learned the tricks behind the trade. What your slight-of-hand protects, weaving one distraction after another. I know. And for now, it is enough. |