The Poem of the Chair

I am here, my fierceness rips
its solid structure into time’s body.
The empty kitchen is my coliseum where I reign.
In the darkness, in the change, I remain.
Nothing you can say affects me.
Even emeralds are envious.
Though birds may fly, my structure is pure.
I do not require food.

Rise, Sun, for you cannot surpass me.
I, only a chair, am a higher god.
I have, after all, four solid legs.
Men are born and die, yet I remain.
Even this, they wrote in me.
Appear and disappear, Moon.
Your phases cannot occlude me.
No sacrifice is more inviolable.
Even a dream must sit.
Even a god may recline.