It’s real. Don’t you see it? Open your eye(s. Let the landscape around you soak into your retinas. Let your brain on a string follow suit. Bobbing past you is what you knew. It will never return. You know this but you can’t help but glance over at it time and time again, when you do it freezes for a bit- but stare too long and your gaze will pierce. No matter. Ahead stands something. You can’t quite make out what but it’s something. Or maybe everything really, if you believe the enticements of volition. See it surround you. You are in a ball. Many, really. Steal a smile as it rolls, a place. A friend. A home sometimes. Further. What is inward inverts. A statue of copper rises and falls. But within this inversion you have kept an iteration. It is already bobbing away. Further. Try to hold on. Things are colliding. Things that gleam in such a way that your own inversion dims under its weight. Further. See the countries dancing around you, segmented and united by the land they are projected unto. Watch your life swung around a star, 60, 60, 24, 52, 366 on the quaternary, don’t worry, it won’t hit for a while yet. Watch the stars spiral. Further. Galaxies unfold. There’s something else out there. You think there’s something else out there. You crumple. What hope could words ever have at portraying divinity such as this. Look up. Pierce the clouds. Find that they obscure only further obscurities. Look down. This was not for you. But there’s comfort in knowing you tried. Believe what you want as objectivity itself is soaked in the subjectivity of those that wrote its assigned but accursedly unlined rules. Try to keep in mind the state of others though. That part is subjectivity of course, but I believe it is important enough to pierce upon the perquisites of this structure. You’re looking back again. Doing that too often isn’t healthy. Though, my apologies, but you seem to barely be able to continue *forward* in the state you’re in presently, either. Oops. That one was for someone else. Did you know, Kenneth Arnold saw a disc that day. Everyone else in the world didn’t. But it existed within his inversion somewhere- pierced or otherwise. And that to me is the most beautiful part. You don’t have to believe something to indulge in it. The stars are dancing too now, sprouting great unlines with their tails. A cosmos rises and falls. Further to the quaternary. Things are colliding, spinning around us now as painted dust scatters the clouds in the wake of what the piercing of the statue’s inversion has informed. It gleams but you gleam brighter. Hold on to those feelings. The clouds bob. Don’t you see it. Copper gleams through the rift in the clouds. Projecting downwards spiralling green light submerges us in the warmth of a star. It’s okay. Let it soak into your retinas. It’s real. Don’t you see it? We’ve created it, don’t close your eyes now, we need this to freeze. Try to hold on, let your brain on a string comprehend the totality of belief, of what we have created, segmented and united this structure gleams before us, a disc of bronze, this is the clouds, this is the galaxies, black and white become meaningless under shades of grey but shades of grey approach truth only under grey proper. It will collapse soon, but who cares, it’s here, it’s real. And when i stop talking, all you’ll have is an inversion. i’m, losing my ability to speak. but that’s okay, if you comprehend it or not, in this moment, spiralling before the profit of what can be achieved i don’t mind either way. i thank you for indulging.
