The shadows are becoming stronger, darker, angrier. So quickly the day is lived, from the time you gleefully stamp it under your foot till it expands and dwarfs you. It’s one of those mundane events that you never notice but you always know about. But there are other shadows that dwell in the mind. Malicious, vengeful, ugly shadows. Lurking behind every dream, every joy and every thought. You can see them but you will not know them.
You can’t crush them, can’t tear them and you definitely can’t kill them.
I can see the future. Not yours but mine. Most clairvoyants will tell you they can see
your future, not me. I can’t see your future because I can’t see the shadows in your mind but I can see mine. I hate calling them "my" shadows. After all I didn’t build them or invite them or rear them. They’ve just been there encroaching into my space. But then they decide my future so they aren’t anything but mine.
I am watching the deserted shore. The water has receded several kilometers. The seabed lies naked, still warm from the night’s affairs. Someone’s scared voice is calling out to me to run away. Am I not scared of the end? Don’t I want to live? Of course I am.
I watch the giant wave crease the skyline. I want to see what the sea looks on the underside. I think the view would be worth my life.
1 comment:
and, won't this 'end' heᴚald the beginning of a jouᴚney into the land of a thousand ᴚainbows?
Post a Comment