Hour Zero
He could have been standing in the crowd
But the concert hall is empty – quiet and cold.
To keep his eyes shut and his lips parted he's vowed,
He wants to taste the memories, hear the stories told
In the vast, silent space to which he utterly surrenders.
His time has passed; he shines in the shadow of others.
He's turning round in circles with his head tilted back,
Imagining the high, distant walls – his own infinity,
And his life. He never sees white here, or black,
Only the rainbow colours of splendid naivety.
The red flashlights reflect in his small pupils,
Like shiny stars studded on a deserted red carpet.
He was, but he is no more – and so there is no peril
For him in dreaming or feeling. Have no fear to forget,
My friend, or be forgotten. The show is set for tonight.
Breaths and Screams and Tears seem to have crawled
Under the creaking wooden floor. Only he can hear.
He feels the drums grumble; his soul they withhold,
Always in silence, often sung by the falling tear.
His eyes open, like a never-dying promise.
His imagination evaporates with delight
Like sweet childish laughs in the night.