Time unfolds like unconscious writing, <br />
A universe of words<br />
Gathered by the fragile consistence of paper.<br />
A godlike creative process, <br />
Soliloquy and solemn.<br />
<br />
I slept while thunderous waterfalls<br />
Flooded narrow sidewalks.<br />
The nervebreaking silence seemed a distant relic, <br />
When dragonflies used to enjoy<br />
The kindness of fading lullabies.<br />
<br />
I slept while in the hills<br />
Cities clashed for an obsolete reason, <br />
Betrayal and treason.<br />
<br />
I slept while thunderous waterfalls<br />
Came washing over those who lingered, <br />
Hopelessly regarding the marvels of self-demise<br />
What other reason could you otherwise Imagine?<br />
<br />
I do not wish to be history s typist.<br />
I wish to be it s writer, not a mere spectator, <br />
And to command a rebellion of stars.<br />
A discreet, yet powerful seduction.<br />
A thespian savoir-faire for whom may learn to dare, <br />
How to conceal such discipline.