i write for inner peace.
House of Falling Cards
Are these card walls hollow?
Paper thin things don’t last
What significance do these numbers-
jumbled, random or ordered, bear
To me anymore
What patterns are masked
in the trivial pursuits of diamonds lost,
What are magicians really searching for
beneath the layers of cardboard
The dexterity will fade,
mechanics grips will loosen
What then will we grab onto
when our hands are old
Where will all those late night hours go
when our audiences’ eyes finally blink
or turn away- strangers on subways,
with real homes to get to, or new cities to see
When those trains stop running
who will really ride these Bikes
in circles forever
there’s emptiness trapped within the
walls of a hollow card case
I hold the cards, I feel nothing
If I suddenly dropped them
will my hands be homeless, or free
ambitions on paper
for the wind to keep
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The Move Unseen
A blog for magic.