No-Title-Post…….

From a million and one fragments that the self is….from the dilemma that mind and heart are, we are nothing but a gathering of variables…
Where time is relative and a human construct enabling us to contextualize ourselves and our lives, moments stretch endlessly, moments spin fast out of human hands….
Where did time begin?
The first minute? The first hour?
There is chaos here…right in the middle of daily attempts to find peace and hold onto it…..A balance that disappears little every day. Or a balance that never was?
Discordant lives caught in desires of finding the pulse of the world…
Go…Go find the Flow…...of time, of the universe…in atoms, in quarks…
Things, ideas, people, events….flow all around. In deep circles…in lines that stretch far far back……
I could stand in the middle of it and it would remind me of some long ago learnt lesson in physics about eddy currents and a resistance right in the centre of the current. A stolen moment of individuality…
Battles continue. A warrior who never needed his sleep haunts, coming quietly along with the shadows of a daily existence... no war cries, no blood…a ghost battle? A battle with ghosts?
Type…delete….type…delete…again and again…String random words along together with a blindness that hopes to end in coherence…hit a line of dots when thoughts suddenly fall into pauses.
The break disappears….You start again…..
Some things end before they could even begin…..what you dreamt of nurturing, you kill…..strange attempts to preserve sanity. Births we do not remember and death we seek to forget…..was there one moment of death? Or was it a process? Moments stretched out over death?
You sit and watch from urban windows…..cities never sleep and we run into clichés. From the false safety of your high rise, you sit and watch….people, cars, money, smoke…you see everything creep and crawl…and race furiously by. Blood thumps along those streets….
They wait and watch. They run and chase….that frantic pulse of this city. You want to win it. You want to hold it in your fist….
No. Never.
In thousands they return. Each night. Small spheres of escape you build….home.
Eat. Talk. Laugh. Love. Go through the motions of living. The last hour of wakefulness ends….
Watch from your urban windows again…a city that never sleeps…nights not of inky darkness but of sickening orange glows. City lights brighten the night sky.
No stars to count.
Go sleep….go dream your uneasy dreams………..

G