Temporary Trip Through Eternity

He loves the Impressionists’
music as meditation,
with seeming simplicity
but deceptive complexity
of melody and harmony,
carrying one into tranquility —
immersion in nature,
rumblings of the sea,
pavanes of broken-hearted love
echoing sweet agony,
the rhythmic repetition
of erotic play.
He is taken away
from the routinized
chaos of the day —
idiotic blather meant to sway
opinions and keep
investigators at bay,
hoards of lemmings following
whatever third-grade talk will say.
Ah, but sweet serenity
is his temporary trip through eternity
until the station plays Tchaikovsky’s
1812 Overture and he is
abruptly brought back to
the harsh reality
of the day
and then he smiles
at the reality
that 1812 was a prelude to
Napoleon meeting his 1815 Waterloo
and he wonders if,  in this day,
as history repeats itself,
that might also be true
and a wannabe Napoleon
will soon meet his own Waterloo.

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