The world is a game

The world is a game
Sometimes like a puzzle
But more like the rolling of dice…

I mean where to start?
I mean rolling dice is not the easiest thing that exists
I mean freedom scares me.

Because I still look for patterns,
what can I do-
For shapes on the ceiling
For a little bit of order
To feel safe.

But where are the leading threads
Between the pieces?
Between the ‘here’ and ‘there’
There are a hundred secrets.

And if you don’t use this paper,
Or put a stone on it,
Or do something with it,
It will fly.
And if you move the wrong piece
You can’t place it back.
And if you don’t know how to dance,
You will have to walk.
And walking is awkward
On a dance floor.

And I guess I am trying to say that
The world, this world drives me crazy.
The world; I mean the puzzle, the dice, the hanging in the air
The dance, I mean knowing the steps, knowing the rules,
I mean not knowing the steps, not knowing the rules.
Not knowing anything at all…
Drives me crazy.

So I’ve come to think
That perhaps the world is a game
To be played and only played–
So if I can’t understand
I don’t understand.

And I may seek for all its secrets,
It'll stay a secret once again...

And it doesn’t matter if this paper flies
If it wants to fly, that’s only normal.

And if I make a wrong move
I have to wait
For my next turn, like that.

And if I happen to be
On a dance floor walking,
For a reason or another
At least I’ll be there,

With a courage of some kind.

© Erida Gjini 2005