The Phantom

I saw a girl last night.
She dances under the dome of the sky,
Under the dome of the spanning night that surrounds the living.
She hears the music and dances to it,
The music that surrounds the silence of the dead,
The music that sounds in the morning
As the sunbeam touches the interstices of Earth
Unseen by men,
The music that sounds in the afternoon
Among the franticness of hurried men
Who die little by little.
The music that sounds in the night
Upon the quiet air that stays around
For those who listen.

I hear that music.

I stand upon a country of a vast territory,
Whose days and nights are the successions
Of sound and silence intertwined
With light and darkness.
This is a land where young men
Are launched into the work of dealing with unmatching pieces
For the sake of wage.
This is a land where old men,
Sat on very new couches,
Watch the full action of TV series
As a lifetime payment.
Old men, young men, all living
Walk their paths across this land of music
And never listen.

Until today.

Today, the cars stop suddenly in the middle of the traffic
Which so disappears.
Today, the workers forget where they were going to
And fill the buses and the streets with idle confusion.
Today, the assasins watch for the first time
The effusion of human life out of their hands.
Today, the newborns understand
The light.
Today, the elders close their eyes
And see the darkness inside them.
And the morning turns into afternoon,
And the afternoon turns into the night,
And a girl comes back to the night
And dances to the music.

Listen…

Written after the daily prompt of NaPoWriMo.

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