Mumbling in our sleep we’ve accepted our contemplative fate in retirement.
In the mandatory silence that we were given, we’ve descended to the depths of our sanity with an abundance of excessive noise of thought and emotion…
We believed in an end, seeing all die, and die again…
As if we were the builders of a universal clock that ticks away moments as this mass of dust swirls in its endless course.
…and in our mortal fear we tried to mould time,
and shape the future as it became the past, and the past a guide for the future and wasn’t heeded…
There seems to be cracks in the concrete walls of the fabrication our silky soft, human reality…
…where beams of darkness try to emerge and make contact with the outside…
…atoms and the quick,
antimatter and the dead…
the escapees of a kaleidoscope, can be heard conversing in spite less glee…
…in a single note symphony.
…having never been discovered as the allies that they’ve always been,
but forever sought for evidence to prove the enemies they were willed to be;
they want to flow from these cracks with the speed of instincts,
and never looking back join the consequential continuity of being, just being…
without hopes, wishes and desires, just the joy of being a part of one another, thus becoming one…
one joy, one body, one dream…
and in their turn joining other ones and become one greater joy, a greater body, a greater another…
and in their turn…