DANCING WITH CHAOS
Mel Waldman
Dancing with Chaos, hidden beneath its shroud,
I whirl and swirl, a majestic dancer am I, and
how beautiful this dance would be, if I were there;
But like the ghosts of Grand Central Station, I am
far away, and if you discovered my secret landscape,
your eyes would capture illusion, never me;
If I were there, you’d grasp who I really am, but
dancing with Chaos, I am invisible, and far away,
like the ghosts of Grand Central Station,
who were part of the city’s soul, until they traveled
downtown one autumn day, oblivious of destiny;
and when the shroud of white dust fell from above,
we wept, covered by a deafening silence
