The Coming and Going.
I am a timebomb, periodically I explode.
I never die.
From the fragments I recreate myself, becoming something completely changed, new sights I've gained.
New thoughts in the night sky.
My cracks and scars are pathways to debrief my past ways.
They're speaking, telling a story only to those who care what they say.
The universe is speaking.. it is quietly screaming.
Feeling so deeply, I experience the essence of Mother Nature.
I feel her agony in the wind, and I taste her tears in the rain.
I can hear the whispers and echos of ancients and those who have yet to come, have yet to go.
I can hear them speaking to me, wisdom.
Precautions to take, roads to make.
I can hear music.. unlike any music I have ever heard in this present realm. It echos from far away, from an unknown place.
I see through the filter.. the black veil of reality. While still dark, still blurry and vague.. there's more that can be heard or said.
There's more sense than scent, vision or touch. It is a connection, an understanding and aquaintence.
It is a precence as a video is to it's subtitles. We can hear what's being said, and we can read what's being read; but more is going on inside every single thread.
Picture after picture, demonstrating the warped and inside out reflections of the light. Reflections of ourselves.
Space-time is equivalent to a solid jello.
Wake up, she says hello.