The Deceptive Language of Darkness and Light
Notty Bumbo, 2017
If it began with the eruption of light,
As though some dream had spilled its secrets
And everything else came much later,
Who can make us trust this story?
They tell us the sky is blue
Unless you look at it sideways,
They say the dawn is quieter than the dark.
So many conjectures given random authority,
How we guess the number of bones
Buried in the box of the Earth.
How all the sand can never be fully accounted for.
We cannot go back to obtain veracity,
We cannot stand at the end of time,
Give ourselves over to finality
In order to assuage our frailties.
This loop we make with our hearts,
This return and reunion and repetition of fictions,
All our guessing is both true and unreal.
Light fills our eyes with lies,
Light brings out the beast in our limited days,
We crumble, we turn to dust,
We drink as though the fire will never stop.
How we began means nothing,
How small mercies evolve with their tender fingers
Entwined in our tangled spirits.
We want to know how we will end,
We will end, we will breath water on the Moon,
We will ourselves to become memorable
In some small and lasting way,
But even our will forgets.
The light will go back to where it once slept,
Will drain from our eyes like the final ocean.
Then we can remember
The cool nights of our first journey,
Before we were told so many lies.
Before we were commanded to choose:
To remain still and unchanging,
Or dare the storms of existence.
What happened does not matter.
Only how we sing about the story
When it finally needs to be spoken.