Thought Screen

It’s just a an ornate screen,
a salve to rationalize our being,
a dialog along
another dreaded day.
It’s just a gala play
to carry on.
Why should well edited scripts
be any better judged
than randomized salad of words?
Why expect
attention or respect, or to be heard?
Why should touching love notes,
or gifts, or thoughtful actions
result in any sway?
Has this been proclaimed my Nobel stage?
What can I say?
There’s valid point in
all this farce?
That the fool on the precipice
dances beautifully?
No matter
what the cost
there’s a prize worth the price
of steadfast duty?
There is bountiful advice
in the stars?
There’s a lucky star;
and it’s ours?
There is magick,
to believe in?
Requited hope, ecstatic grace?
There is more than we imagine?
There is gold in inner space?
There is danger; there are dragons?
There are knights and righteous cause?
There are chaos taming tactics  —
There are underlying laws
that we obey?
(Why would you listen, anyway?)
 *
It’s just a veiled screen,
computer coded themes
based on
what we’ve previously seen.
It’s just our time-lined place
stored data for analysis,
packaged in paradigmatic memes.
Accepted ways of being,
interface of real-time streaming
shifting in and out of order
on either side of mind.
So the target that I track
is what I find.
But I haven’t got a clue
how to reconcile with you
with language 
self-reflectively
designed.
.
.
.
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