Inland Empire

A little boy went out to play.

He played all night; He played all day.

Soon, the boy came to a door,

He wondered what the door was for.

 

He had a fright from all the toys.

He dreamed of light; He dreamed of noise.

When he awoke, he opened the door.

            Cuz after all, that’s what a door

is for.

           

            As he crossed over the precipice,

He caused a rift in the fabric of time,

Sending an image into the future,

A mirror image, formed by a rhyme.

 

He saw himself in the mirror of his mind,

(After he dared to open the door)

Seeing himself like this was reassuring,

And therefore, he kept the image in his mind.

 

The image stayed with him for a while,

Causing him to see himself in some new way.

The self he saw was different than the self he was.

Nonetheless, the boy would never cease to play.

 

The players in the play were unknown to all except themselves.

Selves had split into fragments, pieces displayed on shelves,

Trophies (if you will) of conquests that had come and gone.

Feelings felt and feelings lost; fleeting glimpses of the dawn.