Imagine how the disconnect leaves the heart flapping about like a sail untethered but yet the ego pretends to guide a ship that needs none from such a mere mortal when eternity's very breath is that of the energy of souls collected into a black hole then spewed out the white side of forever.
It is all a miserable charade that like chameleons changing color amongst the surroundings stagnant remains chameleons all the same.
One does not know another unless time sat across from one another with hearts listening to the halves of the whole silence the minds that would wish to be oh so wise and if per chance that moment arrives simultaneously the hearts collide in knowing the known that the souls dreamed to connect again in hope the disconnect could be thrown to the cosmic winds never to return again.
One moment the whispers were crying and the next moment they were in unison singing the only song that ever mattered for any soul that longed to be released from the brief chambers of a house cluttered with distortions and a lack of stardust perfumes due to the negligence of rich growths of mold so sadly cherished as if the older they were the better kept they must be.
Sadly the robe worn by the recalcitrant old lady was not nearly as present as yoda's hopsack cloak but certainly provided mystery for the casuistry. Is that a small red cloth sew on the arm of the purple robe so worn that the salty sea spray crusted over any rich color that had been applied ancient years beyond the fires of the land fallen into the sea.
Ash rained down upon the jester's yellow head causing grey to falsely trick the eyes into prompting the lips to speak as if the jester were the final authority on everything the world knew albeit that world was no large than a thimble used to protect an old weathered finger from the prick of the needle right before the essence slipped through the eye to the other side where light once again melted into breaths of angel aire that was far and away nothing the human grotesque lung could suck in to glean even a few more molecules of life that extended a day into a parched thirsty night. Drink up for tomorrow never comes.
Ever wonder what gets spewed out the other end of that black hole into the WHITE NOISE?
Not you nor me nor the final self proclaimed authority. Not anything as humans we might see or feel or taste.
I know you see for I have been there with her dancing as it were whilst listening to the music emitted from the realm of that one universal energy that so many clouded creatures years gone wished they could obtain not realizing it was there deep inside all the while if only the egos let go.
Yes yes the tragedy of our lives encumbered by the seriousness of the puny mind that wasted itself unable to gain any real self control other than having oone last word somewhere anywhere at all.
BOOM. As the mountain explodes with those on top blown to bits and those below covered in the hot lava. Cling to flesh as it melts like jello left sitting on the sidewalk of time under the heat of a flaming sun. It is like grabbing for love that refuses to be caged or held tight but is always there ready and waiting to revive what is only worthy of revision in cosmic aire.
Want to play it safe without committing to any thoughts that might somehow bring a judgment down upon the head of the lamb that was shepherded mistakenly to slaughter with presumptions that turned into assumptions only so that the protection of imaginary friends could be uncovered as windmills left over from an energy that was priced for cowards consumption? There is no safe place for you. Now for that heart so neglected we have some extra golden rope to lash it to the mast that the ship might carry on across the waters of forever.
Alas spacetime crept up and stole away what could have been one more useless day of the condor but for that old woman in the faded purple robe who had a mystery shape inhuman.
Burning ~ no remains.
© 1998-2016 by KLB
