A Thousand and None Nights

There’s a man on my train wagon
Dressed in military clothes and a jaded stare
He hides, just like I do, from the first light
Deep under the earth, in the blurry in between
Of the old night and the new identical day.

And surely a time will come in his life
One of those times of semi-sober retrospect
When half jokingly
We ask loudly about all the sunrises that went by
And how much of ourselves we poured into them.

And surely, surely, he will want to say it
To the person that will sit next to him then
“I remember that day, it was still dark
And I was standing in the train wagon counting
How many other places were out there that I wanted to be in.”

And surely, surely inside him he will know
That none will really care.

None cares about the strange stories
About the morning times when he didn’t survive himself
And if out of kindness he listens to them – he will forget them
And if within his own stories he compares them
He finds nothing in common, just like with everything commonplace.

You can say how you want your stories to change the world
And how no memory ever really fades away
And how no fairytale makes the next one old
But surely, surely in you, you’ll know
None, ever, cares.

In the average expectancy of our bubble
Nothing beyond the coating brings status
No event, ever, will be cosmogonal
For anyone but those present and/or the witnesses
Because all those missing won’t care.

Similarly, none will remember them.

Your highest joy and your deepest sorrow
Everything that defined and brought you here
Everything you let tear you down
Simply because you hoped it’d be worth it in the end
Are forever, for all, insignificant.

There’s a man on my train wagon
Who I’d rather see asleep
With nothing to say
It is hard to sing like a bird
When they all have only one line to recall.

And surely, you are already wondering
How much you would have already seen
If you hadn’t read my words
And surely, surely inside you, you’ll know
How much you don’t care about them
And where they came from.