“What forces are at play here that delivered such power, light and love to this old Centurion on the edge of darkness?”…

The words rolled around in the most embittered recesses of her well-numbed mind forcing a tickle to arise in her lethargic spirit. A broken, but shining smile appeared on her down-turned face as the phrase repeated itself like a broken record again and again in the background, but the instant she felt herself smiling like that, the shine disappeared again from her swollen face.

The forces had most certainly been that – at play. No more, no less, she recalled sadly – just a cruel game in Life’s circus.

A sharp, long sigh spewed from her dry, cracking lips like a whistle while she begrudgingly revered in the memory of the void of meaningfulness, promised lies and so much self-absorption; she was spent. As the humming sound of machinery tugged heavily at the sleepiest places in her tired spirit like an anchor on its way to the floor of the Mariani, her brain wove a tapestry of those things that disturbed her most – constructed in vivid color true enough to bring tears to her eyes –  embedded with tastes, smells and sounds of foggy scenarios that remained opaqued by a blurry, superficial residue.

“Just because you got the monkey off your back, doesn’t mean the Circus has left town.”

-George Carlin