Let's strum the softest
and most bearable strings.
If everything is an illusion after all
how hard would it be?
Instead of wandering through hallways
in the backstage of a life proud of itself
it would be better sitting back to recognize the smell
of voices and silences,
the thickness of some eyes distracted by the routine
of a waiting,
the delectable rattle of some fingers
on a silicosic keyboard
and the flickering lights of a blue
condemned to blindness.
Going through streams of the anodyne
playing among their sweet stormy
threads
and giving an intriguing smile
to the public horror of lust
and shame of others.
If everything is exchangeable currency,
mind and body,
time and space,
name and verb,
noesis and noema,
that everything be said
or awaits in the innermost nothingness
is just a matter of a scream
of a kiss.
Let's strum the softest
and most bearable strings.
How hard would it be?, if everything is an illusion
and a verse is just some brief chimera.
https://searingwords.wordpress.com/2023/12/18/chimera-express/
