Counting the Big Blue Abyss (A Wonderful Deed that Ought to be Remembered Forever)

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Photo by Juan Davila

John rises from his bed,
Eggs and swords in his head;
He eats his jam with lots of bread
Ponders things that Raphael said.

He carries a blue abacus
Into the misty deep;
Clear cold water flows
Beneath his feet.

He has accounts to keep,
After the bakers and the banksters
Have all gone to sleep.

Dreams never come cheap;
“The price of every window,”
Raphael laughs,
“is one illusion of security.”

John shakes his abacus like a maraca and dances.

He knows that numbers added to infinity
Add up to nothing at all,
But the ledger was writ
Long before his fall.

Whose abacus? Whose hand?
He’ll never know.
Maybe the horseman’s,
Maybe his own.

Full bright laughter anyway;
Three rainbows streak across the sky;
John laughs, bows his head, cries,

“Hello.”

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I’m not in the Matrix. I AM the Matrix.

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