the circus within

within me is a circus

one of mottled performers

casting a safety net out to 

catch their fellow comrades

how often, do you think

they look out into the audience

desperate to make a connection?

When I used to perform, 

all you could see where lights

it was like anyone or anything

could be there, but 

you were blinded,

blinded by shocking lights.

‘the show must on’

and on and on

and on



so they say.

But what happens when that last curtain call ends

the applause fades

and the spotlight becomes 

but a memory?

Do they disassociate from it all?

The locus of their identity 

being infinitely unique from the performer

we saw on the topsy-turvy stage.

or do they carry themselves on 

like a wartime suitcase ,

onto the next destination

on that train with carriages 

we all remember from the films.

I sometimes feel like I have this circus within.

one without a perminant base

one where the performers within 

do flips and tumbles in await for a moments cheer

do we exist for ourselves, or for everyone else 

behind those bright light that blind and confine.

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