play goes on

we are scripted species
our little lives circling around the same talking points-
maybe altered slightly, depending on the mood.
revolutions sans evolution
(no one really listens to each other very well.)

it does not matter what IS real,
reality is created in the repetition and the dramatization of the repeated drama
memory is a fickle thing
(be careful!  she is not to be trusted!  she can be welcome company, but she tends to overstay her welcome.)

the powerful play goes on! and on! and on!
for weeks.

the center of some drama
the spotlight wavering

and shadows near the curtains
that do not quite exit
remain indiscernible
for lack of illumination.



and once in a generous while- a revelation
(but be careful!  they can cripple!  they can turn the world over!)