From the persona: The Thinker
| The sun
drags himself up, like a puppet on a string. He sneaks out from behind yesterday’s sand; alone. Masked is he behind the morning fog, with no stars for company. The whole day long his gentle rays will dart down on this earth. What is the moon but a siren’s call to the waters of the sea? What are the stars but half-life light, too far above the sky? Yet, lovers want to stroll underneath these shy lights. And the sunset… preferred to the ambient light of a bright sun. As such, my being is too much for those around me. My love is excessive; tell me how I should tone it down? My awareness so high it’s labeled insane! This bright sun must be masked behind a cloud, fog; rain. So… every night I sit myself down; count the pills in my hand. Side effects that bring me to convulsion, I endure with hope. Why; these pills, the price to pay to be tolerated each day. The sun shines brightly, smiles; behind the lithium shadow curtain. Remember when our skins were tough; toiling in the heat of day? The use of bright light is for all to see clearly; not? Why then this fetish with sun-block, Lithium and Ritalin? It is time for the pills; so, the sunset invites the lovers of the night. |
| By : Thys Groesbeek |