Great things, and their shadows, monumental under the sun
Small things, kept tightly in palms and little cardboard boxes
Big words, spoken in whispers or in between gulps of tears
Small words, stenciled eternal in our mind, under our very noses
Under our very noises
All collapse.
The things long forgotten, under the debris: a toll of our successes
The things forever recalled, nailed on our lips and our senses
The moments of wonder, the right space and time for us
To witness our own personal miracle
And the hours of our undertow routine
The boiling calmness of narcoleptic existence
All collapse.
The architecture of what was once a soul
The blueprints of what was once a future
The aspirations of what was once a dream
The claims of initiative of what was life
They all, eventually, collapse.
Someone saw you stretch your arm
Someone saw you smile
A shared glance, a two-sided touch of nickel
A common bed, a common dream, so commonplace
Yet so much fleeting
In their common and unique
Collapse.
I can imagine a time of happiness
White walls and light coloured blinds on the windows
A casserole breeding and boiling lunch
The sound of keys turning
Evening rain on the windows
Light by the pillow
I can imagine a time of completion
And collapse.
I see the obelisks of hope
Raised gracefully in every little place we call our own
Their shadow in the light of noon like sundials
For every age, impossible or not;
And with a smile that shakes some cinders from the lips
I see it all go down.
Sitting upon the sidewalk
Tossing away a cigarette unlit
I curiously observe the detonation
And I routinely witness everything
Collapse.
