Apologies, once again RL got in the way and I am late posting this. It was payroll week. Somewhere there is a work/life balance, just not here at the moment! I was feeling the immensity of the universe and the insignificance of our individual lives when I wrote this. We are strange creatures with the ability to contemplate our own purpose, or lack thereof.
Free Writing Exercise #6 – 25.11.2017
Silent stars that travel, expanding to vastness on the balloon skin slowly pumped with universal breath. Ever outwards, greater and greater the distance between. With time, and its wisdom, those from the centre come full circle to meet at the edge. Is there an edge to space, to the universe? Or is that space a melding of realms, where next door to this life, there is another, and another next to that? Bumping and churning with white hot speed through existence? A place where there is infinite ids, or souls or egos? Where my beating heart ceased to beat years ago, if years are anything but an arbitrary measurement of what we call time. Perhaps there is a place that runs backwards, where we start out dead, are animated to life and regress to the death by birth? And when swallowed by the blackness of the womb, a zygote, then gametes, sucked up a phallus and then back and back to the death birth of our creators. So it goes, flying through our arbitrary determination until there is nothing. Perhaps then an overlap, the next phase, a slip to another realm, where it begins or ends again.