place your palms over mine:
(watch the cracks and fissures of our destinies weave,
Jörmungandr,
black to white until we touch our way
to grey)
in a moment
there is neither a beginning nor an end
(and so it is now)
just...
us, circling here,
and a silent, infinite
spread
of possibility, before and behind
(even though it might only be imaginary)
[because what existence have i, outside of you?]
Author notes
“The living being had no need of eyes when there was nothing remaining outside him to be seen; nor of ears when there was nothing to be heard; and there was no surrounding atmosphere to be breathed; nor would there have been any use of organs by the help of which he might receive his food or get rid of what he had already digested, since there was nothing which went from him or came into him: for there was nothing beside him. Of design he was created thus, his own waste providing his own food, and all that he did or suffered taking place in and by himself.” - Plato
Comments
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I enjoy your consistent theme expressed in a non-consistent and very unique and surprising way; something different to say the same thing.
It hasn't replaced my favourite written by you yet, though, but well done nonetheless.
2 fools.
-Reni
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dare i say this is beautiful?
oh yes, i do dare.
"this is beautiful"
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