It’s 4:14 in the morning
And I cannot sleep
Why is it always 4:14?

Why do we seek a magical significance in numbers?
Searching for an explanation
Looking for a sign
As if the universe is speaking to us
Imparting a higher meaning
Revealing the truth at last

The man behind the curtain has a message he wants to share
It must be important
He is agitated
But he cannot find his tongue
He has no mouth and he’s choking on his words again

Words have no meaning anymore
Everything is lost in translation
And we no longer have the key

Besides, there’s no one else here but you and I
And you are only a memory now
A fading photograph
A vanishing star

A restless ghost in the endless night
Who stays with me till the morning light

And I am the tin man in the bedroom
The drowning sailor washed up on the shore
The test crash dummy in the bed next door

31 May 2019

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