APRIL FOOL’S DAY

Who could have foreseen that the wilderness
Would evolve into this metropolis?
You know who.
I stood here at the top of this pillar
Thirty-seven years before I died.
When I woke up in Heaven I found myself here,
And the multitudes followed me,
And believed in me,
And they had to have somewhere to live,
And one thing led to another
In a linear causality.
They worship their own reflections.
All of their skyscrapers are like this pillar.
All of their works are geared to my fixity.
Now they have forgotten me,
Though I tower over all they have done.
I don’t know if this is wrong or right.
I don’t know if this is dawn or sunset.
I once believed in God;
Now I believe only in standing here,
My head bowed toward the abyss of the Machine.
Vague ideas of souls grope in the darkness;
My own soul lingers
Like a mist that bewilders the city that never sleeps.