End of Show

I pulled the curtain. I pulled it
not you.
And here we are. Its thick
and dark
a damask enclosure. Old wood floor. An
old sweet smell
of powders, and
sweat
from a long time ago.

I don't mind this dark. If I stare into
it, look at it, rather than
trying to see something
I can tell its red, and crimson, and
honeycombed gold. Not just dark.
I still know
where I am
which is the same place
as where I was.

You
on the other hand
are feeling along
for the split
for where
things separate
and you walk through. The other side.

The split is there. Both sides
are already there.

Keep feeling for it
until you
don't need to
anymore.