7.End All Suffering
A walk through my head brings all sorts of memories. The lies
that I tell myself so I maintain a sense of identity in spite of
its irrationality. A cell is born in time and splits in two. My
mind wanders and wraps in on itself.
Illusion, illusion, fount of all fiction. The outer world
collapses and shatters into eternity.
Angel forms and rings orbit around each other to sing in distant
fever songs. A somber portrayal, the shapes that shift all back
and forth and replace me in my mind, cast their shadows on the
water and rise and fall like the barrier of my breath as the
world bears down on my chest. (Refracted through clasped hands,
tumbling back into void. A filter through which I speak vedantic
tongues. Am I not simply an array of patterns with grids of
bodies in empty space biting at my heels like the ghost of the
flame of god？)
Unrest made manifest like ancient threads borne of a barren
loom, grim chance and shaky hands to tease knots from loose
ends.
It drips down upon my memory. Old passages of time forgotten but
yet remaining. Locked away deep within the varnished hull of my
chest. Lurking behind every breath or just sitting, asleep and
permeating my mind with restless waves of dreams, collapsing
into puddles, bearing my reflection in their ripples like the
answer to a riddle I've since forgotten.
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