You came through the door,
stumbling,
as if the world had chased you home,
planted on hand on the wall
to catch yourself,
so you didn’t collapse in the foyer.
You always said
you hated it outside.
The world had just expelled you
and the only safe place
left for you
was behind that door.
Never one content with comfort,
your bright and curious mind
would draw you out of doors
eventually,
that hint of discovery
always trumps persecution.
You’d be gone for a little while;
sometimes a day,
sometimes many,
but you’d always return
chaste,
fearful,
out of breath in the foyer.
You said that you had heard the bells chime.
Not at St. Vincent’s Cathedral,
no,
you said this was another kind.
A small, light bell,
like the kind inside a music box.
You claimed that outside,
in the bustle of the world,
you could hear
that whir and click
of the mechanism
and every so often,
the chime;
like a signal
permeating everything.
Sometimes,
you said you could almost feel
the tooth of each gear
setting into the other,
as if the grinding
of some great machine.
The whir and click,
you said,
were everywhere.
The chimes would ring
and out you went,
back in search of
your grand machine,
the thing you said
ran everything
and everyone.
I admit,
your claims drew curiosity
and I looked closer at watches
and music boxes
and thought long and hard
on whether you were correct
and not insane at all.
Was our reality,
just a machine?
a system of cogs and gears,
running ad inifinitum?
Were we built with purpose?
You left,
one sunny day in April.
You claimed that you were close
to finding the source
of the chimes that called you,
but you never returned;
were never seen again.
We mourned your disappearance greatly,
for we knew your mind had gone.
Your whispers
about machines in the sky,
in the water
and deep underground
and machines that looked and spoke like people.
You were harrowed
by the madness that took you
and where you went,
I hope you have found peace.
Amongst your things
I found a little music box.
It doesn’t work,
but maybe I can fix it.
Tinker with the gears
and get it to whir and click
and when it chimes,
I’ll think of you
and try to forget
about the madness
of this automated world
that you so feared.
Funny…
… I swear I just heard a bell ring.
Someone’s at the door.
HG – 2017
