Several faces sewed on,
One atop the other,
It’s strange how the seams don’t show
Even though I’m straining under the spotlight’s glow.
But they have to stay on,
These faces, some that would make you cry
Some that entertain you,
Some that pain you,
For if they don’t, I know I will be gone,
Another actor will voice my song.
So I go on, carefully juggling,
Shuffling the faces I must hold,
Each one staring from a new magazine;
Yet I know I will grow old
As years unwrap around the sun
And the magazines will then be stashed
At the bottom of a pile of trash
And all of you who idolize me
Will have swum to another shore,
While I’m swallowed by the tide,
Chained to the sinking sea bed.
But for now, I am the hero,
Living your dreams, mouthing your words,
Taking you to an unseen world;
I am the star guiding your ship
Through a parallel universe
So hop on, let be your steed,
Feed my power, fleeting though it may be
This momentary spell I cast on you
Is my only desire, my only need.
Faces dwindle into dots
As pages fly past
Are you looking back at me
From somewhere near the horizon?
You slipped back slowly
From center stage to dark aisles,
Obscured behind the stars
While I try to figure out your smile.
So how is it beyond the sun?
Is it darker than our darkest night?
Are you swimming in brighter lights?
Have we lost our golden boy
To the world across a great divide?
Meanwhile I search for your traces
In the wind that gently sweeps in,
In the eloquence that silence brings in,
In empty aisles that seek your voice.
In the clear morning sky,
I see a hint of your smile.
Have you found a new meadow?
Did you grab a piece of the sun?
In fleeting glances, we throw shadows at each other,
Disguised in the white of light
Around this coffee table,
Shadows from yesteryears eclipse
The abyss between years that have fled past;
And I wonder which one of the you
Is talking to which one of the me.
Their vial is empty,
Drained of all they had;
They hoped I would turn out the same,
And as they sat around the flame
I would be one of them too;
Staying down, wrapped in blankets,
My eyes nailed to the fire,
My ears glued to their tales.
But this feeling had to seep in,
It entered through my hardened side,
and I thought I was watertight.
I knew I had to walk,
Dusting their stories out of my hair;
The words slipped off easily as well,
That made it easier to snap the chain.
I walked back again to the fireplace today:
There was a patch of blackened earth,
Glowing embers lay alone;
Even the story tellers had left.