Eden
Rising Star
Because they found that they could.
Okay, from the beginning:
The bridge, the line beneath the sky, the path I followed to my death. The water awaits, the ink summons me, cold feet stumbling through wet leaves. The pieces pursue, the fragments of me I have left behind, abandoned here in this place. I could not bring them with me, so here they wait, wait for me to return and remember what I have forgotten. They have haunted me for what feels like forever, pushing me towards something I doubt I will ever comprehend. I find them here, in the oblivion of my ignorance where I know I am lost.
I trip over a root hidden in the mud, sprawling at the the very edge of what I foolishly consider my sanity. The wave overtakes me, consumes me, is me. I made them alive, the things I discovered birthed them and they devoured me. The trees, their strength ties me to the source; depth is the only reality I conceive. I crawl to the precipice, fumble for an anchor, here at the end. I am sucked into the void, that tear in existence which lays waste to whatever handhold I think I have gained.
There is nothing, but even that is something?
I fall back through the cosmos as the rain of delight, return life to clay that was extinguished by the fire, laying there under the sky.
It was I who put the stars on the brink, scattered the silk on the glass of the here. I found I could live in the reflection, in the bubble of the paradox. It was there that I created my destruction; it was there I became them. They let me decide and I chose, there on the cliff of the unknowable. I heard the echoes of the thoughts I never conceived.
Thank you, were the words I left as I fled back through the line that divides. That was the land I left behind, the place that saw my arrogance in ruin. The land where the lights were the stars, because the mirror told me they were. And I believed it.
Okay, from the beginning:
The bridge, the line beneath the sky, the path I followed to my death. The water awaits, the ink summons me, cold feet stumbling through wet leaves. The pieces pursue, the fragments of me I have left behind, abandoned here in this place. I could not bring them with me, so here they wait, wait for me to return and remember what I have forgotten. They have haunted me for what feels like forever, pushing me towards something I doubt I will ever comprehend. I find them here, in the oblivion of my ignorance where I know I am lost.
I trip over a root hidden in the mud, sprawling at the the very edge of what I foolishly consider my sanity. The wave overtakes me, consumes me, is me. I made them alive, the things I discovered birthed them and they devoured me. The trees, their strength ties me to the source; depth is the only reality I conceive. I crawl to the precipice, fumble for an anchor, here at the end. I am sucked into the void, that tear in existence which lays waste to whatever handhold I think I have gained.
There is nothing, but even that is something?
I fall back through the cosmos as the rain of delight, return life to clay that was extinguished by the fire, laying there under the sky.
It was I who put the stars on the brink, scattered the silk on the glass of the here. I found I could live in the reflection, in the bubble of the paradox. It was there that I created my destruction; it was there I became them. They let me decide and I chose, there on the cliff of the unknowable. I heard the echoes of the thoughts I never conceived.
Thank you, were the words I left as I fled back through the line that divides. That was the land I left behind, the place that saw my arrogance in ruin. The land where the lights were the stars, because the mirror told me they were. And I believed it.
