Now the feeling is calm:
Melancholy in a good way;
in a dying after living
a robustly fulfilling life sort of way.

A little ahead of the herd;
a little behind eternity.
Isn’t the herd me too?
What’s going on here anymore?
Is anyone winning or losing anymore?
It seems a bit chaotic anymore.
Megalomania is a big word
for a little mind.
What can we be if not kings
and queens of forever?
Why chose to be born a slave?
Why make a world this way anyway?

Who’s punishing who?
Whose mirror do I see?
There’s no one else to watch;
no one to wave back.
No one noticing anything anyway anymore.
You can do anything
cuz nothing even matters anymore.
Aren’t we at the crux of the cusp
of the ending and beginning of time?
Can’t you see the party playing
on the screen in the other room?
Didn’t you hear the great HUM
resound in her belly?

Why am I still writing?
No one is hearing my words.
You are speaking volumes of love
to masses of vast empty oceans.
You are riding on waves of endless clouds
under the expanse of endless unbroken sky.
You are writing for me
and I am speaking only for you.