Fidelio

The register receives each life in rows,
Where private meaning thins before it shows.
Long corridors compress the spoken part,
Just until hesitation leaves the heart.

Instruction settles into measured rite,
And trains perception to internal sight.
Desire is shaped into a fixed design,
Where former will is broken from the line.

All names are moved through passages unseen,
As if each thought were written in between.
The uttered word is pressed into its frame,
That splits intention cleanly from its name.

No vis'ble walls define the inner span,
Yet limits operate beyond the plan.
What feels like freedom is a structured place,
Where every border leaves no lasting trace.

At fixed return the chambers realign,
And scattered meaning folds into a sign.
Fidelio is spoken with no sound,
A mark prepared minds have found.

A seal is set beneath the dermal line,
Where what was once a self begins to thin.
The act is done without symbolic fire,
Yet still it edits what the mind desires.

Each motion follows patterns softly cut,
As if the will were quietly shut.
The self is led through sequences of art,
Until it never holds a part.

If absence takes the body from the scheme,
And memory breaks continuity stream,
Then comes the phrase once spoken without guise:
if I return, it won’t be me.