at the boundaries of where worlds shattered into nothingness.
-Do I exist? Do I truly exist, my God?
It was the whisper of the wind or perhaps a distant sigh. Words softly glistened in the mirror of dreams. Maybe voices from another world.
-Do I exist? Why me? Why am I not asleep?
Silence: I silently tiptoed through the grooves of light.
Don’t speak. Words are unnecessary in dreams. Say it differently… Feel the slow meandering of thoughts. Know what you wanted to teach. Know the infinite with silence…
… There’s no reason for reality, only existence. Unidirectional, behind the labyrinth of illusions.
… Look at the silence and see with your memory… It still begins somewhere here in the depths… Remember your dreams. You floated without a body.
It wasn’t my voice. It was more than that. Something else. It narrated, just like that. Because it felt good to express itself, liberated from the chains of words.
The body wasn’t even a memory. I knew it wasn’t there, yet I didn’t even notice. I was only consciousness. Unconsciously, just that. Dreams whirl around, and I no longer know when I am awake. Perhaps I have never been; I was just preparing, like in the womb, for the slumbering birth. And perhaps in my dreams, death elaborates on me too. Descending net on the brow of will. To embed everything in silence.
With closed eyes, I hold the tiles of dawn. Weariness grinds in senseless noise. Sounds, chasms in the cracks of consciousness. Some happy imagination from the past. It’s coming. It howls and vanishes from the now. Only the wound remains. Blood seeps. Peace is dying. Water. In mountains and towers, some elemental force twists the threads of consciousness. Help…
-help.
The words get lost in the descending silence. Agony drizzles outside and inside. Mist. Memories of how things should have been. Slow movements in a groundless world.
Levitation?
No. A peculiar existence from beyond the borders. A game. How it degenerates and turns into blood.
I seek the intangible. But when there is no more time, it loses its meaning. Wakefulness becomes meaningless. Perhaps I should dream.