Alive
It's easy enough to understand
Victor Frankenstein's desire to
conquer death, to find the secret
other path, to flip the hidden
switch we feel so certain must
exist. Life is, after all, something
we understand, something we
have in hand until, one day, we
don't; and how maddening to be
given the gift of someone- a hand
on your shoulder, a song you sing
drunkenly together, an afternoon
in the crunching leaves- how
maddening to have even yourself,
and then to fade into absence like
that, without assurances and
without a plan, and all that radio
silence, static and vague rumors,
and ancient mythologies and hope
that the unexplained might be as
simple as turning on a light that
no one has noticed, or as obvious
a flash of lightning in the dark,
caught and offered as payment,
a revelation we can't believe
we missed, hidden in plain sight.
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