As he arranges his explanations,
He dances a quirky dance,
More of a twitch and stumble
Than Fred Astaire’s monochrome
Grace. All his interpretations
Are framed in such a manner
As to hide his ragged edges.
He has become the illusion
Of flickering flames: seen
Then unseen between shadows
Dancing light upon a wall.
Yet, he is no cave dweller,
No shaman dancing the night
Beneath an occluded moon;
He shuffles stories like tarot cards
Flipped before an anxious heart.
The closer he comes to know
Himself, the farther he slips
Away from a larger world.
(August 19, 2017)
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