Natalie
in the Plain
by
Edgar Bagayan
Worn
and weary from the dull drone
Of the humdrum days she has known;
Restless Natalie hears a background hum --
Crystal lines, drowning out the Plain's daily
Monotony and Mediocrity
Dressed
fancy, the glass her face reflecting,
Four and rolling, hyper in
the morning.
The glum coffee slugs move
as in a sleep,
A slump too grim for Natalie --
Like a slap back to sad sobriety.
"Walk
around the illusion," They all say,
But intoxicated, she'll not
obey,
Nor renounce the beauty and
fantasy
Radiating her plain reality.
In glamour, she staggers and
swaggers 'round.
Tainted
toxic, her subjectivism:
All the eyes somber and steps
downtrodden
Now speed up to pace with
her perception.
She's left rejoicing in her
creation,
Completely ensconced in the
illusion.
Alas!
Ambition's but an illusion;
Inspiration, a mere apparition;
And the Illusion, the real
Toxin--
Hidden in the haze, hovering
around,
Then like a sickness, slowly
sinking down.
Day
breaks in a great fiery ray
Piercing fiercley through
foggy grey.
Clouds of cold, comforting
obscurity
Follow the sweet inspirations
that flee:
She's chasing the tail-end
of a sweet dream.
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