The following is [a filler post comprised of] a collection of some random things I’ve written somewhat recently. None of them really warrant a post of their own, so I decided to put them all together into this one post.
I float through the galaxies, pass by once-distant stars. The far-off twitter of celestial bodies is understood by me now, the seemingly random flickering now at once a sign.
The invisible, infinite bubble surrounding the universe twitches
It twitches again.
The universe is thrown into yet another state of chaos. Planets thrown from the orbit of one start to another, supernovas exploding just as new planets are born, entire galaxies smashed together into new conglomerations of new, old, and dead stars.
The universe? No.
I open my eyes, run a cold hand down my face.
A cloud of colour swoops past in the darkness, a new nebula carrying the newborn bodies of mass.
That one ethereal elephant floats over the endless waters, carrying its immortal load in its endless journey.
No-one saw the beginning, and no-one will see the end, no-one but that solitary elephant. And when its goal has been reached, its journey ended, it will die. Its entire life, from the start when its load felt light until the end when the load brought the elephant down into its grave, has been a journey towards death, the decay growing as it went on.
Others have seen his journey take place, always in the background, obscured by mists of separation and clouds of arrogance.
They take the foreground in their bursts of temporary fame while the elephant goes on, goes on, on unto his completion and death.
A puppet of music, the notes pulling my strings.
I am not in control of their order, they are the ones in authority as they make my ways known to the audience.
My body floats above the stage of life and dances for the crowd. They watch my movements, cheer, jeer, and are silent.
My body falls down before them and they let out a gasp of shock as a final gasp is let out of me, and are aghast at my final flounderings.
My lifeless head rolls towards them and they see that my death, my life, has all been an illusion. They let out a gasp as the realization strikes them, and fall silent to watch the play go on.
My unequivocal carapace rises once more to dance the dance and play the play and please the crowd. They clap, cheer, and I continue, while my actual life has passed on beyond that gate of mortality, my rags and bones enacting the part that they want to see so dearly much.
As their appetite increases just as my acting goes on, the strings are cut and I fall limp upon the stage and they let out a “boo” and leave with my wooden joints still sagging on the unforgiving and much-experienced floor.
They leave me to go to their outside lives, and I am left helpless upon the stage of life.