Resolve

Our hamlet’s unending conundrum:

If the quest to find one’s self is nothing
But tedious, bothersome, humdrum—

As some infinite jesters would have us believe—
Why does one find himself coming back

Ad infinitum?

Seer

—for Eleni, who saw it all from the start

If I still call my wife
Cassandra

After all these years,
It’s not

Because she’s foretold what will happen
Tomorrow, the next day, week, month or year—

We all know no one can do that, right?

But because when I see the incredible
Light in her eyes as she tells me

Dream after dream, I still can’t
Believe how it was

I foresaw my future.

Clean Slate

There’s nothing left to erase—
Even the eraser’s left

No trace.

After Porchia, All Over Again

All things happen in an instant—
Even when nothing seems to happen

Over a thousand instances,
It’s over

In no time at all.

Getting the Picture

How dark

Unseen forces behind that will
Color it accordingly

To how many lies remain
Exposed to the light.