Obvious Phantasm

By E.B. Keane-Farrell

I only exist in that room;

When I’m out, I’m a mere shadow.

I pass by you,

But you merely blink through

As such an obvious phantasm walks.

When in that room, you’ll gladly acknowledge me,

But outside – in the cold world –

You cannot turn your head,

You cannot smile at me.

Of course, I understand

That one must keep up appearances.

I know that it would disrupt all order

If you did not hold my name in contempt,

If you recognized my voice.

Or would that happen, my dear friend?

Would chaos reign, and order end?

My view differs greatly

From that of yours.

Methinks if you acknowledged me

A different order we could restore.

It could be an order where dark touches light,

Where sun and moon combine.

I could emerge from the shadows,

No longer an obvious phantasm,

But a real being.

I could talk to you,

Not walk moon-by-moon

And you wouldn’t walk so close to the sun.

But, if you cannot do that, then at least remember this:

A great hero flew to the sun.

His wings melted and he crashed downwards.

Not even the moon would help him then

Because of the treatment of the sun.