I Think I’m Okay

molecular tidal tantrums catching visuals of 8mm

paintings playing back thousands of memories that should have been forgotten

in the ember liquid in aged oak on a fermented plank known

to hold the world’s greatest mysteries within its mist and vapor,

as the clutch to all that is known

gets broadcasted to the backdrop of an audio-visual conundrum

in a vacuum where there is no audience, no one to see the violent

creation of a world meant to explore a meaning out of nothing

that’s yet to be understood,

or yet to be conveyed in a satisfactory manner,

so that everything, everyone, in their stick forms, melodramatic theatre,

can be laid to rest

with the comfort that it will all be okay,

it’ll be okay,

I will be okay,

as the circular motions of billions, turned to trillions, turned to whatever comes after,

years of going in the same circle manifest into the wickedest hatred

being played back by a million different synchronized rhythms

zipping through space in a slow manner so it can still observe and enjoy the sights,

well, look at that, a comet’s tail writing French in cursive

across the sky, but it will never last, nor be understood