Our stage is a carousel.

The lights shine with the power of a thousand light-bulbs subdued by their own excess.
Engulfing everything else in darkness.

As from an ill-tuned piano trinkety-tronk music plays.
Whining as though painful laughter.

The wheel spins round and round.
Round and round, round.
Faster and faster plays the music.
Unfazed, the wheel remains.
Round and round.

An illusion for the senses.
Eyes. Ears. Time.
Trapped in the lack of space.
I’m choosing my ride.

Should I sit on a horse, as did the kings of old?
With carved curled mane and golden saddle.
Should I tame a mighty elephant, like sultans and soldiers of the East?
And revel at my accomplishment to dominate a beast.
Should I force cruel impossibilities by riding a dolphin?
or sit alone in the chariot made for two?
Else, like the Messiah, ride humbly on an unordained donkey.

Or should I simply stand there?
On the stage.
Holding on to a pole.
As it takes me round and round.
Nowhere.

Without a seat.

The music will fade.
The wheel stop.
The sound of sighs and dying laughter will overpower the silence of the darkness that awaits.