the loneliness of listening

“for the mists are the memories of the gods” – H. P. Lovecraft

 

hold back from me everything that you are

and i will hide the scars

that debris the functionality of my frame

 

to converse without blame

unfulfilled fantasy

 

people perceive the center of the universe

agrees with their location

extricate expectation as if the universe

was an act of will

and not random atoms colliding

 

i am a plethora of platitudes

your tongue and attitude

obligate the divine

“why is everything i want not mine?

and what are you going to do about it?”

 

i swallow solitude like a mind altering drug

far away from you

and all that you view

 

close my eyes and count the stars

the constellations and quasars

so close and yet so far

that even a man of devout faith

had to ask after their consideration,

“what is man, that thou art mindful of him?

and the son of man, that thou visitest him?

 

you speak like a babbling creek

i inhabit insignificance

the milky way with its creamy filling

could dissolve in the mouth of the gods

and the universe would not even blink

 

the universe has passed its prime

and in effect is now dying

i endure your crying and chatter

over things that will never matter

 

while telescopes view a light that left

a galaxy 13.8 billion years ago

 

its journey was slow

because light can only travel at its own speed

and nothing else can travel as fast

only relative to

 

and 13.8 billion years

is a long time to travel

in the cold confines of space

 

so ignore the blank look on my face

the gratuitous nods

my darting eyes looking for an escape

from your perception populated with promise

 

so i can return to the relaxation

of remembering it’s all a retinal view

relative to your realizations

where i realize in the expanding expanse

of this universe’s glance

this tiny blue dance doesn’t matter

 

***