Open Poem by Etienne Charilaou

There are no humans in my field of view -
a view which is constantly changing though
it remains the same, yet could also change irrevocably.

What does it matter what I say, what I think?
Who am I? I am nothing, or so I think.
But who am I? Does it matter?
And yet, I know or believe that everything matters,
or has to matter!

These vistas are unique in all the Multiverse.
‘There may be beings, thinking beings, near or surrounding us,
whom we do not perceive, whom we cannot imagine.'

I have to go and wash my hair,
and do sundry acts of cleanliness
but something holds me here;
I hope to get word from the beyond,
a ray of light, perhaps to recharge
the green lantern of my soul?

All I know is: I am here sitting, waiting;
I am alone but not sad.
I am hopeful and quietly glad.
Weak words are penned.
Why am I loathe to put down my pen and
bask in nothingness - what more can I tell
the reader, who is really my self?

O, if only I could cry -
but why waste the energy.
If only I could die?
No, dismiss that sin-ergy.

Now, I am departing from sense.
Forgive me, still look what you get for few pence!

The words of Transcendence do not come.
There is no magic spell that can usher one into Eternity.
And here comes the rain at last
after an afternoon of rumbling.