A Room of Blissful Darkness
I wandered in blissful darkness;
My arm outstretched,
Hanging in limbo.
The hardwood floors creaked beneath me.
The rain pattered patiently on the glass
As though asking to be let in
To make acquaintance with my sodden breath.
So dark the woes of man are laid!
Arranged in a social hierarchy,
And in alphabetical order!
I glance around (a useless gesture)
Examining the room
In search of light
(The dimmest glimmer of hope would suffice)
Aimlessly;
Thirsty (despite the wetness in the air)
For lustrous knowledge.
Directed only by minor gusts of wind
Blowing me hither and thither,
I wander in blissful darkness;
My arm outstretched
Cluelessly.
And whilst the serenity of the unknown
Pacifies my mind in the midst
Of this hypnotic eve,
My Thirst re-emerges
And rapidly drives me to lunacy.
Yea, the midnight siren
Renders this illusion vaster—
Far beyond its substantial boundaries.
For in reality the Room is small,
Cramped,
And teeming with conflict—
A conflict of beliefs;
Until all truths are lost
And the surreal is re-inhabited.
The dark Room we wander in
(The reality of the blissful darkness)
With ours arms outstretched,
Bumping into furniture.
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
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