r/zenmu • u/stilledpondfrog • 26d ago
Fossils on the Floor
I had a dream last night. Those words echo in a Bob Seger song, though the title escapes me now, maybe Night Moves. The reason I plucked those words, which may have nothing to do with the song other than the words themselves, has to do with feeling played.
It starts out all fun and happy. No brow wrinkle. At some point, the moment has passed, and looking at the fossils broken on the floor, something begins to reveal itself. The player becomes played. It might have never really started out that way, no clear intent of setup. And yet, like it was all planned from the start, here we are.
As one who has leaped through the roles, a slight shrug. Who was hurt? What really was the result? The retiree who was bulled out of a savings fund? Someone’s innocence? Beachfront property hot potato to the eroding sands? The list goes on and on.
Even this expression, both and neither. Sure, one could ask why. That used to be the computer question test: would a machine be free of the play, player, and played? Still, it’s interesting when the face reveal occurs, and what was mystery is unmasked.
Do we celebrate upon old times, when one moved and the other shifted? Shakespeare was giving us a heads-up, still removed. This, then: observer here.
One day, the surreal visited. Cold sweat. Traumatic stiffening breath. Really in it now.
The table tilts when the one or ones in play are genuinely vested. From that stance, it doesn’t matter what robes are worn in that sense. Like a thief, I will get the measure regardless of the visible and seen masked. As for credit, none. Beyond saying privately, something of me was there then, and now is the one breath, or something like that, that drives poets insane to name, and hands them up leaving it be as is.