Musings of a bus journey

Solace is the place behind
that ridiculous
contraption
on your head.
Self-induced isolation brings
such joy,
to be nothing more than an observer
- the man behind the one-way glass.

Dull sounds tinting the hard diegetic.
That play -
The Stage is always there,
yet as actors we are oblivious.
This stepping back - this
eccentric habit -
this makes us an audience,
watching that curtain being drawn
viewing rather than perceiving.

And only then -
after overcoming the intrusion,
that constant social sun which makes one perspire liquid fear -
can the significance of objectivity be felt.

This feeling - it overwhelms.

To be, but not to be - as being becomes essence.