. . . . The Forgotten Circus . . . .

With my last breath . . .
I bring my children back to life . . .
the ensemble cast of my only family . . .
to perform once again - and for one last time - in front of no one
their curse - is also - my curse . . .
as no audience be witness to their wonder . . .
no eyes will ever fall in love - with the beauty of their physical theatre
Somewhere . . . between worlds . . . is where you will find us . . .
painting the surreal - with the movements of our lost flesh . . .
flooding the imagination - creeping in like shadows of emotions - under skin - young & old . . .
I am the RingMaster - I am the father - I am the mother . . .
and my dear-beautiful-fragile-young-ones . . . are "the forgotten circus" . . . of my family . . .
my theatre of pleasure . . . my theatre of pain . . .
it is here . . . hidden . . . between the curtain of night . . . through them
it is at this point . . . that I learn my last - but most valuable lesson
to say goodbye . . . to myself . . .