I feel the creep of age and miss the one who kept me sane
When is the sun an untruth?
Untruth? Not to be confused with recline, relax, but everything to do with solitude when a truth is proven.
Not to be confused with the decline we all know is coming (are you sure) or nothing, but everything to do with solitude when a truth is proven by being unprovable.
The sun is an untruth when we can’t see it. We are not intruders here.
“Prove it,” he said all alone, spotlighted and mad and hatless, no small child to impose upon or to frighten.
“Such a vast universe, we are insignificant in comparison,” said they to him
– “prove it,” he said, “prove ‘insignificant!'”
and they proved it to themselves by laughing up their sleeves.
I followed him about while he scowled back at me. “Go away.”
So I did but came back again.
And little by little he spoke less and less to me. “Here, read this.”
I did and returned the words to him wanting to hear more, all I heard was, “no, no, keep it, take good care of it.”
I see him now everywhere and nowhere.
The librarian with no roof, no walls, no plastic to protect what paper remains,
and me with this ridiculous schoolgirl crush.
“Here read this,” he told me and now I do really read it and think –
prove ‘insignificant’ to me, prove it.