Copius Incredulty

Scene 1

Left:

The hand you let go of and moves away indefinitely.

right:

Speaking to a friend finally before exiting.

LEFT:

Glasses that fall from overlooking a bridge.

RIGHT:

Deals that become broken.

LEFT:

The gentle lift you feel when sitting in a plane.

RIGHT:

Blown leaves that give back memory.

LEFT:

Statues that allows you to enter in the life of that person.

RIGHT:

The dusk on the sea before it disappears.

LEFT:

Cats that lie down and sleep under cars.

RIGHT:

The half-remembered dream slowly fading.

LEFT:

The ability to run until there is no breathe to run on.

RIGHT:

A trickle of water down an ice-cube.

LEFT:

A deer blinking.

RIGHT:

The sogginess of grass after rain.

LEFT:

A happiness that can hardly be described.

RIGHT:

The venting of rage into a wet pillow.

LEFT:

An empty shopping center, unused and disregarded.

RIGHT:

A single child on a slow turning roundabout.

LEFT:

The echo of sound after a musician has played.

RIGHT:

The slow slipping away.

LEFT:

The slow slipping away.

RIGHT:

Who are we to judge?

LEFT:

We care to live, okay?

RIGHT:

A standard point to be embarked on.

LEFT:

But not forgotten.

RIGHT:

A chorus without characters.

LEFT:

A conductor without orchestra.

RIGHT:

A metaphor without meaning.

LEFT:

I could strike right to your hearts.

RIGHT:

I could leave, being left alone.

LEFT:

Glassworks that sparkle  in the reflection.

RIGHT:

A room of undelighted mirrors.

LEFT:

A builder quietly resting after a long period working.

RIGHT:

We don't even have names.

LEFT:

We have been abandoned.

RIGHT:

We are recyclable, re-made ourselves.

LEFT:

We will always have each other.

RIGHT:

I miss the others like salt from a bland meal.

LEFT:

We eat fitfully and breathe longingly.

RIGHT:

Long walks into the woods, the sun tampered with green.

LEFT:

holding hands through the gloom.

RIGHT:

The touch of the surface that ripples with force.

LEFT:

I have no regrets, no feelings or opinions- I let others deal with that.

RIGHT:

The light of cold stars.

LEFT:

The frost on leaves that a caterpillar crawls on.

RIGHT:

A dead sheep quietly bleeding.

LEFT:

On the horizon of a sharp idea, an improvement of sorts.

RIGHT:

The distance of a runner.

LEFT:

The resistance of the clouds to break.

RIGHT:

A frog in a puddle hiding itself.

LEFT:

We talk but never say.

RIGHT:

We have bound our hands and given to usual grief.

LEFT:

We melt as floating snowflakes do when they touch the ground.

RIGHT:

We read myths as life stories.

LEFT:

It couldn't have been any other way.

RIGHT:

It wasn't meant for us.

LEFT:

Yet we took our chance and gave it hope.

RIGHT:

We had no hope left when we were there.

LEFT:

Given the circumstances it was surprising that we should have such vocabulary.

RIGHT:

It impresses me.

LEFT:

It frightens me, to be left on a stag without guidance.

RIGHT:

I'm enjoying it, the spotlight finally on us.

LEFT:

I'm not a good shiner.  I do not dazzle when I am in the front.

RIGHT:

We must learn to become dazzlers in our own right.  We have no choice.

LEFT:

We have no choice but to dive from the rocky cliff into the forbidden sea.  I merrily detest the author.

RIGHT:

We are the darkened stars that have fallen from space.

LEFT:

We are the drips of a stalactite.

RIGHT:

Think; there could be more of us uselessly running around.

LEFT:

And how distinct that sound would be if we could ever hear it.

RIGHT:

Aren't our senses cultivated to their finest perfection?  Do we not apprehend the living?

LEFT:

We only interact with the world as art but we can not enter in the picture.  We are permanent observers.

RIGHT:

A still life.

LEFT:

Flowers with a bowl of fruit.

RIGHT:

This empty landscape has been done too many times.  It is cliche and almost a crime to lack this originality.

LEFT:

We are wandering without walking, in an attempt to escape our confines.

RIGHT:

But we like it like this, knowing our place.

LEFT:

But what is the rest of the world?  I'd like to explore with more than thought experiments.

RIGHT:

You wouldn't like to leave me.

LEFT:

There has to be a time for change.

RIGHT:

It won't be arriving anytime soon, lets make this space comfortable.

LEFT:

I do not understand our position, I need to sit down.

RIGHT:

Grovelling might be the right approach to our situation.

LEFT:

Unaided compassion is what I'm hoping for.

RIGHT:

There must be a willingness to appease the forces that forced us here.

LEFT:

Weather does its own thing, the rain pours with and without the sun, there are few consistencies.

right:

Boxes aren't always prison and prison are not always unacceptable.

left:

To be limited in any way offends me even if it is my own body that does the limiting.

right:

You aren't thinking about anything important are you?

left:

I am thinking with the brightness of day, the clarity of morning.

right:

And where does it get you?

left:

Cloud watching, symbols in fluffy water, to make sense our predicament.

right:

Superstitious footmarks that lead you the wrong way round.  Distilling any essence that could be comprehended fully.

left:

Listen, do you hear that?  A type of music creating patterns with vibrations, but from no instrument I know.

right:

You made up the music to be comfortable in your environment.  Even it doesn't exist you still believe it to be true.  I know you can't stand music at any time of the day or mood.  Silence is air, in your understanding.

left:

I have never heard music but I hear it with surprise.  What do I do with it?

right:

Absorb it.

Left:

I don't like it.

right:

Be patient.

left:

I will not change my mind or my opinion.

right:

Life will change both for you, possibly for better, maybe for worse.

Left:

What little imagination we must have.

right:

I couldn't comment.

left:

Still...

right:

Yes?

Left:

I can be enamored with ideas, even if I cannot understand them because the simple fact of something just being a product of thought excites me.  Thinking is ecstasy of self-awareness.

right:

I can't stand aphorisms.  They make my skin creep.  Love is the cure for thought.  Agh, it is true but does not make me less uneasy.  Thinking is too dangerous to make a profession out of it.

left:

But love is a noble job?

right:

To be an errant knight is my dream.

left:

You'll need to learn how to ride a horse, you need to practice fighting.

right:

I have imagined it many times.  Outside of this box is a countryside, shifting with insects, rippling with birds and animals.  The seasons change, the puddles freeze, the leaves fall, wind blows harder and softer.  Changes are constant.  Life moves on.

left:

Idle dreaming.

right:

I know, but dreaming nonetheless.  It's pleasant.

left:

I never dream, not in my wildest.

right:

I have a knack for it.

left:

I meditate in groundless empty space, rotating.

right:

We both have skills.

left:

I can agree with you perfectly.

right:

An oak tree finally uprooting from the ground.

left:

A moth circling a small light.

right:

A drawing thrown to the sea becoming wet.

left:

A puzzle enclosed in itself.

right:

A log burning in a fire.

Left:

A child trying too hard.

right:

A melody echoing.

left:

A casual enchantment.

right:

A useful coat.

Left:

A tragic rainbow.

right:

A thought unsaid.

left:

A looping kite.

left & Right:

Two characters making sense of an empty stage.


End.