In Here

In here I occupy the smallest space, yet cultivate galaxies to weave and web light across an infinite sky, or in darker moods, conjure glaciers that grind towards frozen seas and numb the mind with cold. Beyond, I populate the unknown with fickle gods. In here I pretend to be out there. You may have seen me seated at a table, conversing, appearing to be at ease when really I am - in here. Out there I masquerade as me but what you see is a fiction, a mere automaton moved by levers pulled by me - in here. In here I cast no shadow, all is a closed room, a darkened theatre waiting for a movie to be shown. Thoughts wind like frames through lighted gates and blink images upon a screen. I watch and examine each passing scene trying to put together a picture of who I am. In here there is only me, the solitary custodian of a lifetime's haul, the judge and jailor. I would like to be elsewhere but cannot gather in all that is me. I spill between the frames of this moving mind, and these words, no more than a notion, a flickering ghost on an editing room floor.