Index:
Three:
Au Revoir
Two:
The Trichotomy of Time
One:
The Travelling Salesman's Problem
Waking up into a dream
with a muffled groan, a stifled scream.
Reality splitting at its seams.
Suspended in a world of make-believe.
Where silences echo, shadows bleed,
and the weight of emptiness crushes everything underneath.
The memories flood in. I'll drown if I breathe.
These moments, they are far and few.
But today, it's not even dawn yet,
and I'm already thinking of you.
I've walked down this memory lane.
Seen all the attractions,
peered through all the window panes.
Know all the shortcuts by heart,
know which streets to avoid when it gets dark.
Been lost here one too many times.
No GPS, street signs, or warning lights.
The only way out then, is through carefully crafted lies.
Bounded by space. Thwarted by time.
Or maybe something divine.
Two waves out of phase.
Queen of fire. King of ashes.
The memories are stitched into my soul.
How do I let them go without ripping myself in twos?
Why'd you tear down, this pedestal I placed you on?
Why'd you laugh, when I said you could do no wrong?
A wish turned true, then why didn't you believe in shooting stars?
Carved out of marble, then why'd you say you too have scars?
This edifice I built for you, why'd you call it a facade?
Why'd you say you're no God?
I would walk the earth to get to you,
but those last two feet of distance,
that would take another life to close.
I know there is a world where we will meet again.
Where you will be the you-est you, I will be the me-est me,
After-life, re-birth, or whatever the Gods' decree.
And it's only now I see
why inventing religion was man's necessity.
With this, for now, I say goodbye.
Until we meet again.
Au Revoir.
Now it's your choice, you decide
All of it, an outcome of your own design
What you wanted, now before your own eyes
Your third and final wish, now brought to life.
Then what's this emptiness inside
It feels like something's still not right
What's your response - fight or flight?
"no take-backsies" the genie had said,
and now what you see, fills you with looming dread.
Is this what they meant when they said -
You'll anyways grow into an old man filled with regret.
So daydream a future that won't come to exist,
however many times you ask yourself "but what if?"
Now watch the clock, as I turn back the time.
See the hour hand go from eleven, to ten, to nine.
Seasons from winter to fall to summer to spring - they flash by,
like two trains moving on parallel tracks on opposite sides.
And now you're at the crossroads where it all began.
You see your younger self, unsure to go this way or that.
With these unknowns inside. Thoughts that won't coincide.
Making a decision devoid of reason. Like writing a song without rhyme.
Do you interject, or do you let it slide?
Would you've really been happier if you'd just gone to the other side?
And now you see the picture in its entirety,
your vision, limit x tends to infinity.
Some things they were, are, and will be,
just as they were always meant to be.
Maybe this is the closest you'll ever come
to understanding the meaning of the word "destiny".
Hollow words, plastered smiles
The truth is left unsaid. You were meant to read between the lines.
The pauses, they say more, than the words between them.
A world held together by a string of honest lies.
So keep up the charade, hide behind the facade.
Which mask shall you wear today? Which role will you play?
A dance of deception.
Where do you go from here?
The audience changes, the act remains the same.
Show's open. Come on in.
Now Showing: Someone Trying To Fit In.
Ticket for one, please!
Now entertain me, monkey. Make it worth my time
And I will pay you in affection. Or maybe even a repeat visitation.
But perform something new then, because I'd have already seen this.
A transaction of emotions.
So step out of the wings, take center-stage.
It's your obligation to shine, brighter than the blinding spotlight.
You contort, distort, twist, turn, and burn
Without a hint of selfish concern
Give away everything you've got, turn yourself inside-out
Keep up the show, through pain and pleasure, moments that could have been leisure
You end with a crash, a fitting crescendo
Out of breath, sweaty. Your sides in stitches, every fiber on fire.
The lights turn on.
You wait for the applause. But there is none.
You look up. The theatre is empty.
You were performing for yourself.
Tell me, then, did you atleast have fun?