one thing connects to another; the seamless thread runs through, the blue sky of the afternoon will endlessly walk towards the black and pursue a star’s tail, once more,the fireball has a swift rotation, on a finite loop of cycles with no beginning or end.
You have to do it. The palms of his hands implore, pulling from the sky some kind of divine insight-fullness, it weighs in, his abdomen contracts, craving for an understanding, his voice comes from within - words leaking out of a fountain; it trembles the insides of me, where little sparks burn and yawn. That’s what he did, surrounded by fourteen of us, in a black box.
Outside transparent doors he halts in front of me. What you gonna do. His eyes won’t give me a break, I’ve fought them before. He listens, he listens to my words, he stands in front of me, the sun shines bright on the asphalt and building behind him, his attention burns through my cocoon. I don’t wanna lie to him. I should not content for insufficient and superficial intent. I devote my energy, to reach out to him, with the effervescence boiling in my veins. Then do it. He’s never been so gentle. Ever so honest, the earnest.
Thanks is all I manage, his back swaying towards the sunlight.
Waves of excitement spam from the abstruse ends of my interior realm of sensations. The smile striking my face could not feel more involuntary, nor could it ever feel more welcome.
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