Just shadows around, somewhere in the core of the sphere of darkness floating as a fetus, not unborn, not even material, just the escence of being, just existing, is this real?
As the shadow sphere turns, I realized i wasnt in it, I was it. I am the sphere of darkness, I am a sphere because I wanted to.
In myself sound is unexisting, here it's just me and not one thing beside me or in me.
On the edge of mi existence lies the eternal, infinite mass of nothingness, the empty space, licking me with it's ice cold being.
I am a sphere because of one simple reason, before it i was perpetual, perennial, my being covered everything here and there, dont like it so I reshaped myself, making me smoother, symetrical, becoming the center of me, the sun of shadows.
Suddenly, as a thunder, the sphere I am cracked open, splited in two.
From the crack flows color and sound, as ink and paint, drawing the reality, purity white filling the moon, limited by a blue and purple sky, aluring the top of the trees to reach it, to combine the deep black of the trees.
Wind leaking through logs, screaming for freedom while, as a ghost, as the reaper, a gunfire out of nowhere, drilling my brain to never come out.
As i fall on the pale snow, a white rabbit escapes...
Now, finally im gonna rest...
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario