I stare out beneath the physical realm. My eyes close and I see darkness, this alternative to light and a vision all it's own. I sink beneath matter, I pass through water, ground and air. What is my body, this formless thing without any perspective but a vision, staring at still waters eternal.
This is the underbelly, the space between this world and oblivion. There is no time, there are no references. The imagery is lacking for it's true beauty is unseeable. I stare upon it and all I can see is a false lake whose waters will never stir. The place where dreams and memories, personality and soul wander and drift into like fine droplets of water and dew.
Collecting in silence on the waters surface. I am standing on the surface and I have no reflection. Who am I but nothing in the kingdom of nothingness? I can see here more clearly than I have anywhere. I want to trace my fingers on the liquid, want to create ripples but I am have none. I stare into the depth and there is no bottom.
The shades of eyes stare back and I am meaningless to them. There is a temperance to all things. The vision is stronger than the man and it is the sights that exceed the seeing for what are there words to eventually grow silent, their literature on paper to be lost and forgotten, turned to ash.
For the scribes of rock and stone to be withered to sand. Why do I tell you all this? I do not know. Perhaps because I see things above the surface of that lake. Hear whispers like glass gently being broken.
The depth of my perspective, the value of my soul individuality is harmed by the concept of truth. Oh what is truth to us but the confirmation of laws we develop, subjects of rational convention somehow proven within our sight. There are different truths in this place, different than what you and I will ever understand.
Truth in the water that never stirs and goes on forever. One day I will submerge unto them. When my body can no longer repair the extent of it's transformation, the arms race of compensation for the finite time we exist to unexist. Then I may be the one whispering to you some day. When your eyes are closed and you see in an alternative way.
We have been too comfortable. We crowned ourselves, gave titleship for existence and hoarded emotions and alliance as gems. Beauty, wit, gifts, friendships, love. Nothing will remain eternal for there are no deservances. This is not a cry of disparagement. It is a statement of comfort for those who are so attached to the things that cannot be attached to.
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10 years, 9 months ago
15 Jun 2015 21:50 CEST
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