On the leading edge of life
Where the world no longer turns
And the Sun neither rises nor sets,
Where even Time is held 'on-hold',
His hourglass grains frozen in freefall
Upon the bitter cusp of Forever;
There slumber the grey, unwaking shades
Of that other world
That lies within, yet without, the Land of the Living:
Those silent citizens of sad O-le-Coma City;
Immobile flesh and blood,
Unwilling or incapable of movement:
Some from shock;
Others from falling into an auto-hypnotic sleep
Where the magician-self has 'gone under' too –
Both now lost in depths far beyond the reach
Of the emergency services of consciousness;
Souls incarcerated in personal prisons of perfect inertia,
Dreaming unknowing,
Or silently screaming
To be let back into their own life
Before it passes them by.
Miracles sometimes happen in O-le-Coma City:
Some find their way back.
No one knows why.
Tony Jolley
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-le-coma-city/
