A Cat In A Box
Once a very long time before
On a very far and foreign shore
This music in my failing ear
Rang clarion clear
Harmonious and sweet.
It grew note upon note,
Bar upon measure.
Then it slowly faded
Distracted by distractions,
Confounded by contradictions,
Diverted by diversions.
It is way of all things
So I am told.
It must be so.
Time is a whorish thief
Promising much
But delivering little.
Promising “forever”
And gone in a flash.
She robbed me of my purse
She robbed me of my voice
She robbed me of those precious things
Then robbed me of my music,
Now, threatening even the memory of such things,
She returns at this late hour,
Slowly to be sure,
But I catch traces of her
Peering from the shadows
Drifting on the air
Or in the clouds
Or buried in my words,
Traces of a distant song
That lifted and carried me
From a very dark place
To here.
Now drifting into focus,
A mere shadow in the light
A ghost in a world of dark
A sound in a world sight
A shape in the mist
A phantom.
When ability and sensibility fade
The melody lingers
Marked by signposts of significance.
What are you to me and
What am I to you?
It’s all a matter of relevance.
If you are not relevant
Then you do not exist,
At least to me.
And who else is there to judge?
Not the reality of existence,
That’s not in my observable universe,
But the certainty of that existence?
How can I be certain?
The certainty.
That and doubt.
Certainty tainted with doubt;
Both lie at the heart of the matter
When the question arises.
But that’s a cat of a different colour,
Thus resolving all paradoxes:
There were simply two cats
Or none.
Certainly a quantum question,
Is it one or is it the other?
Who is to say but me?
But it still remains to be seen.
Certainty or doubt.