He was not
here. Just his essence,
the thing that clings ever so dear
to every Singaporean’s attempts to start
over, to move with the wind for a change.
Nope.
Regrettably,
just a literal wall of fear
that rises to greet you
each time you get anywhere near
yourself.
Your own sense of destiny,
and your ability to tell
hope from horror,
time from terror.
It all happens in an empty space
that resides between emotional value, and far too much face
given to the wrong people. The wrong virtues.
The wrong sense of truth.
The wrong sense of who you
could free,
and how that might look like, if you leave
yourself behind,
and invite yourself to see
what remains.
What has been deemed
invalidated, and infiltrated, and made to need
a saviour.
A freeing redeemer.
A creeping hope and dream
of a healer.
Who is he?
Maybe you.
Maybe no one.
Maybe—
it is enough to say
that the universe could very much be
legendary.