Nebula at Sea

Act II. A Song of the Beauty of Life / Nebula at Sea, II

The trees zoom past me

as I whistle to the tune of the breezing winds

I sit in my SUV

tinted in the silver of eagerness

to please the rich and the broken

like a dog licking the boots

of a pig who has gobbled

far too many sorrowful hearts

of the fresh-grads, of the penniless

of all the young people with professional degrees

as my golden mind boasts of its success

in sleeping through a bronze medal

while the winner is a slave

whose mouth spits out lies and assumptions

that my talent is God-given

that my hard work is that of my neighbors

that my SUV is stolen from an honest person

who receives money from under the table

in the most magical, most unbelievable way

like an illusionist disappearing from the stage

yet reappearing in the minds of everyone

haunting their dreams

reshaping their lives

In the midst of the moving trees

large factories lurk in between

seemingly too shy to show off their bodies

too conservative to expose their private stories

that they are fucked on a day-to-day basis

by slaves chained to a dark authority

lost in the lightless storm

walking and running but never closer

to escaping from their personal hell

far too long ago

I, who had the brain of a carefree child

who had the heart of a molested dog

screamed with a spirit of defeat

"where are the clouds?"

"where am I in this world of pain?"

and now I have my answer

I did not wish for clear white clouds

and thus the slaves are now ensnared

by the pitch-black clouds of sin

exhaled from a person with putrid breath

who was birthed by a toothless lion

raised by a legless tiger

murdered and resurrected by an angelic snake

and mentored by a MACHINE

I stop at a traffic light

I see no vehicles, no people

as if the crossroad was carefully crafted

as a rendezvous point for four ghosts

who went separate paths after graduating