Does it matter,

Mars or Venus

right of left-brained, handed or sided?

Do you mind, Man, Woman

whatever your gender…?

Who cares about polarities,

the yins and yangs

or even the null points where they meet

cross over, interlink, cancel each other;

where they enter the great Void

find the decimal point, the key, harmonic

from where they leap through star-gates

to other kinds of being.

 

Does it matter if this time round

I am a villain, a fool

and you are the hero, martyr -

or visa versa - being everyone:

multiplied by and part of Everyman?

Each character, mask a necessity.

 

Do you mind when you can’t find answers,

when you can’t find your heart,

or mind or self?

When you lose your beloveds

and the years overtake you

with nothing to show.

 

Who cares that yet another Yuga

tramples us into a mush?

Aren’t we all in it together, one?

Powerless,

crazy for a security that is not there;

a primal womb called Home.

To be sure.

Have a purpose.

Someone or thing to run to.

Carbon-based children of helium;

some Fibonaccian logarithm

- or random happenstance?

 

Once upona, I leapt from a flying rock

across the starry wastes,

stepping-stone moons,

galloping meteorites

shooting over Schwartzchild radii

 like a kid wildly roller-blading.

Having an agenda,

straight from creations drawing board,

with a fairy wish,

a streak  of madness,

lashings of folly and courage

by way of an engine;

and then fancy myself,

 along with every other atom

as somehow crucial, indestructible.

 

What is so special about that?

Where is the charm in this idiot genius?

What precedent, antecedent

allowed - or justified?

 

This self-obsessing,

short-sighted, survival junkie

with no choice even while choosing.

A gangle of neurons and wavelengths

wrapped into a code

 with a shape defined by edges:

called me. Or that or else.

And then, in a flash it’s gone.

Changes.

All the games and tricks

of playing around in Time

 - inexorably mixed up with Space, remember! -

back and forth, zooming out or in,

fast or slow-motioned,

air-brushed or focused,

riding the tracks of memory

racing along the contours of substance,

embedded in full sight in dumbest flesh:

a secret, sacred disguise to hide in.

So no-one knows or can place

where anyone really is

at any given moment.

you reasonably asked.