“I’d woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.” -Fernando Pessoa

“A cautious dripping

leaks from the margins

of our accumulative subconscious.

It is a knowing,

the delirium of angels

Spilling out like tears upon the water drum,

disturbing the substance of meter.

Arrhythmic echoes follow the cacophony of life-

And it is the listless movement of their shadows.

We do not hear-

For we are in the process of creation,

The world is cyclic and circular, for that which we know

And that which we can not perceive

move deftly within the same realm.

We are but a silhouette of beauty,

dipping phantom fingers into ever rippling waters.

But I hear them, here and there,

outlining our laughters,

harmonizing and igniting.

I mute my creations so that I can listen.

Through the ruins of my portrait,

the fissures in my identity: their voices melt into frame

and I am humbled.

Then they pause, like startled children

looking back again.

Hurriedly, I rush back to life-

And I pretend, and I pretend, and I pretend.”

Knowing, “It’s Going to Rain in this Place”

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