Sunday, February 13, 2011

A Whisper

Was it a whisper?
Was it my name?
Did I really hear anything?

From somewhere unseen,
off to the side of my reality,
peripheral to all else I perceive.

Was it a message
or some kind of sign?
If it's happened twice?

Like someone trying to wake me
from a sleep so sound
I don't know it's sleep,

I the unwilling,
uninterrupted dreamer
remaining steadfastly asleep.

But what kind of being
could it be harassing me?
A god or a demon?

If there were gods,
would they speak to us thus,
obscurely, to no clear purpose?

Just a whisper, "mortal!",
taunting our limited minds
while controlling our lives.

Or what temptation,
what evil purpose,
could be served by such

Sideways swipes
into mundane reality
from a lower plane?

Perhaps mundane's the word:
a whisper from a minor demon,
like the Lord of dust and linoleum.

Perhaps a voice from the future,
a four-wheeled destiny
awaiting my full descent.

Or else from the past:
forgotten hospital ghosts
haunting these halls of the unhealthy,

Just looking to bum
that one last smoke
before entering the eternal ether.

Maybe it's the disembodied
voice of my bladder,
crying out in impatient agony.

Or maybe part of me knows
something the rest forgot:
don't forget to get your parking validated.