The Orbit

I swim in a different orbit than everybody, than all things. But is this a blessing in disguise, or a curse in hiding? It’s the dilemma of involuntary non-conformity that one can never give an honest answer to such a clear question. I have to keep on guessing, I guess. I have to do whatever it takes to keep me going, physically, that is: my mind has no choice but to keep on floating about in its lonely orbit.

In its lonely orbit,
 around an imploding self,
 my mind lies exposed,
unable to seek shelter,
unable to hide or run away.
 My mind gets dazzled, in fact, mesmerized, by the light-works of death.
 Speak of a “death with a bang.”
 Still my mind can only hear...
There are no sounds in space.

February 8, 1997