There is no beginning here.
This is just something which happens to exist.
Something that feels real amidst these delusions.
When I think about it, I am greeted with a hurricane rather than a gentle breeze.
With notes of melancholy, creating a perfect symphony.
With a heart stuck in awe, like an old table clock whose battery suddenly goes dead.
Like the sky during sunset which bleeds having to choose between blue and red, so deflects at lilac instead.
Underneath that shadow, there is some beauty in that darkness.
A candle flickering in the wind.
Thoughts, like the rainbow of gasoline on a water bubble.
Like a pebble stuck in shoes, unwanted travel companion.
The scent that lingers,
of sweat and blood,
an aura of a survivor.
So close yet so far,
like fireflies,
glimmering somewhere.
I would say it is beautiful but it makes me cry.
I would say it is sad but it makes me smile.
I would say it is perfect but it has been stepped upon too many times.
I would say it is dead but it is living with all its might.
Just look at it and decide for yourself.
There is a wildflower blooming in that crevice.
PHOSPHENES 