(looking for Neil)
They strained their eyes until their vessels burst.
The broken shredded strands dangled in scarlet,
--loose from the flaccid white orbs.
The fledgling republic of loose ends,
focused and remembered the goal.
They flung themselves toward the stars.
The frenzied pace flung faster and faster and
when they reached their limit...
they snapped their possessor to his toes.
Painfully, reluctantly, they accepted defeat.
Instead, they rushed back home and enmeshed
themselves around the lobes of the thought box.
But they still couldn't see.
They could only imagine and dream. Dream of the
crave. The nagging ever present crave to see
from the vantage point of God.
But it wasn't their turn. It was Neil's.
He was a first class passenger on a luxury flight.
The rest would have to wait for the final blink,
and travel the economy seats.

(Neil looking back)
The impotent god stood silent
--for he knew the whole earth listened.
Every breath, utterance, belch; carefully
monitored - recorded - retained.
He had said what he had to
--the mandatory famous phrase.
Now, basking in the blue glow
of a world of sweat and sour meat,
He thought of himself. The part of the whole that had
broken free, or at least stretched the limit of his leash.
He was looked for, and not found (even though everyone knew
where to look.) He was being looked upon and not seen...
He was feeling the weight of God.
Indignantly, he stretched forth his hand
and shook his middle finger at the whole world.

( )
Seven paces behind him, God smiled.
A touch of heavenly envy helped forgive the indiscretion.

06/01/2003

Posted on 06/02/2003
Copyright © 2024 Max Bouillet