Today, they all sit at the table,
but hunger? No one is able.
The glasses are filled with empty air,
and the toast just echoes—calling nowhere.
— "Cheers!" says the man with no face,
and the empty chairs clap in their place.
The feast is rich, though none can see,
with dishes lost to memory.
The clock on the wall laughs with no tick,
pointing to hours no one can pick.
The guests say their names in reverse,
and under their masks, who’s better or worse?
The talk takes flight, though wingless still,
doing tricks in the silence until
words are just wrappers, tossed aside,
and meaning? That’s on sale, can’t hide.
Outside, the city quakes in fear,
but inside, all is perfect here.
The buildings bend and laugh aloud,
while ruins promise futures proud.
— "The king is naked!" shouts a boy from his screen,
but we keep eating what can’t be seen.
We savor the nothing, taste it with pride,
for in the end, what’s left to decide?
The banquet’s for no one, from no one, it’s true,
and the guest list includes me and you.
©gj30
G