The curtain draws, awaiting reopening.
A hum, a buzz—it’s a quieting, a breath perhaps
drawn in anticipation; or was it satisfaction?
The story hibernates, its metabolism
meditating out of time and out of self—
an intimation of some crepuscular
farewell, some necessary resolution.
But wait! There are yet spoils to be reaped,
reckonings to be paid, questions to be left
unanswered; but by whom? At the end,
no one inherits the right to be disinterested.
A bell, a shuffle—it’s a rising, a call perhaps
to be thankful in disbelief; or was it ignorance?
And so the drapes stir again, awaiting denouement.
• • •