They no longer believe
in the aggregate, in unity -
everything is disparate,
shattered, and partial.
They no longer believe
in moments before and after -
nothing primordial
or promised to come.
They no longer believe
in maps demarcated with colors -
just dull grayed contrasts
of chiaroscuro shadows.
They no longer believe
in connective certainties -
only continual detachments
and gaps of disjunction.
They no longer believe
in anything but disbelief –
the voices echoed in the rifts,
in the spaces in between.
- The Fool
- photo by Mishra Gordon