This is the part where everyone hears an alarm
but still presses their weight
as if onto a chair they know is giving way.
Not out of confidence —
just the hope that all will hold
until they’ve had some.
The markets drift upward,
pleased with themselves,
like balloons that forgot
they owe everything to a knot
made of physical reality.
Meanwhile, this “real” world
clears its throat —
not aggressively,
but just firmly enough
that ignoring it becomes a performance.
The mines are down to their last plausible stores.
The wells are sending postcards
from deeper and deeper holidays.
The soil has stopped making promises
it can’t keep, left with the tone
of someone who is only trying to be polite.
Infrastructure leans a little more each year,
pretending this tilt
was part of the design.
The climate, never subtle,
drops its hints in the shape of seasons
that don’t remember where they live.
Trust thins into something
you could almost see through.
Cooperation retreats
to whatever can be reached
without knocking on a neighbour’s door.
And still we behave
as if physics can be persuaded,
as if thermodynamics
might soften its position
if only we find the right consultants.
And the field moves on
with the patience of stone
It has seen many versions of everything
making similar bets with entropy.
Coherence will prevail —
gently, if we choose to see the cracks
and tighten some bolts.
Or all at once,
if we wait for the floor
to deliver its verdict.
Either way,
the shift is already in the room
wearing a faint smile
Ceteris Paribus 