It was a congregation, gregarious.
The lubricant of organic warmth
Flowing smoothly
Past them
Through them
Into them
Above them
Underneath them
Amid rains
An undercurrent
A flying current
Current.
It's so human yet non-human
So real yet surreal
Flowing yet stoned and rigid
So many yets juxaposed against each other.
Promises springing out of nowhere
And dying into somewheres
But no nowhere.
Just here.
Just there.
Just a presence
And some absence
Yes, also some nonsense
Nonsense.
There were people enjoying newfound power
Bureaucrats roleplaying temporary aristocrats
Roles, appearing and disappearing
Like shades under coloured mosaics
Classes colliding
Staggering pieces of glass suspended
In social glue
Civilization at its unknowns
At its controls
At its illegitimate joy
At
Here.
Sometimes
Nevertimes
Maybes
Perhaps
Somewhats
Never minds
Do minds
Chaotic possiblities
Racking the fragile morals
Mocking human fragility
Eyes slanting
Eyes following
Eyes exchanging codes
Eyes acknowledging
Like hungry dogs
I looked above
No sky, just a suspended hole
Agape
At us
Reminding me of Nietzsche
Saying "If you stare
Long enough at
The abyss,
It will stare back
At
You."
Lights hang like
Jaundiced ghosts
Over the brick mounds of
The colonial reds
Some beings had gathered
At the curtained windows
To thrill at the surging humanity.
The surging humanity
A pool of fivers, sixers
And passers
They kept the numbers under their clothes
Some of them carry their 100s and 99s
In their deepest pockets
To legalize themselves
For the drama of the night
Even if they had to adhere
To the background
The papers arrived
The clocks reached the twelfth hour
The lights blazed
The pupils dilated
The hairs stood erect
The feet quickened
The volumes sharpened
The crowd fattened
The vectors crossed
The trees shook
The numbers rang
The faces burnt
The hearts stopped
And the numbers reconfirmed.
There was a murky tide of emotions
Under the murkiness of midnight
Ad handouts reduced to murky pulp
Rain pouring its murkiness
Onto the road, onto the crowd
The numbers bringing the soothing murkiness
Into our tense minds
Oh, it was one murky night
Of June.
The pass to the next ladder of life
Or rather the next rung of life
Had been issued
Life had continued
For some
Life had discontinued
Life reached a semicolon
For some
Life reached a full stop
The numbers had punctuated
Our history
Or so we believed.
- Naychi
1/6/2018 midnight
In front of BEHS 1 Dagon, waiting for Matriculation exam results
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