Eternity – the first kiss of death.

 

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Dream. Shattered hopes. Loneliness that intrudes on your life as you beg for it to be an illusion. Earth. A speck of the universe suspended in the ubiquitous darkness. Surrounded by motes of light. Adorned with human dreams. Waiting for the end of eternity.

* *
Keys left on a crumbling table. A door slammed shut. A house abandoned with the awakening from your last dream. You walk, run, and walk again. You don't remember yet, because there's nothing to remember. You don't worry, because you have nothing to worry about.
You stand on the edge of a precipice. The wind tangles your tattered hair. Your hands are unkempt, numerous cuts decorate your arms and legs. Everything is hidden beneath your robe. Though clean, it seems stained with blood.
You return home. You see corners decorated with your own hands. On the wall hangs a map of the world, whose problems pierce you through and through, though they are so distant. You pass people on the way to your home shrine. You don't know their worries, yet you pity them. You don't know the reason for their sadness, yet you feel sad too. They ask for help, yet you ignore them.
Pieces of stone fell one by one into the abyss. Like particles of the universe drawn into a black hole. Somewhere below, birds cry. The flutter of wings echoes. Accompanied by the soft roar of a waterfall. The greenery is obscured by clouds as white as her robe. Everything invites you to fall in... to fall like those stones.
Clouds have gathered in the sky. Dark. People, afraid of the rain, take refuge under roofs, fleeing to shops. The wind comes and goes, and with it, the clouds depart.
Water crystals slowly slide down your cheeks. Every now and then, a tear detaches from your body. It falls down... Into the abyss. Onto the sand, wetting it, giving hope to a grain of grass. Then it dries up, and hope remains, tempting suffering. And next to it, another seed withers slowly, peacefully, resigned to its fate.
You talk to the silence, because even though there are four people in the house, no one returns so early. You wander aimlessly through the garden. You watch the flowers, which settle down for their nightly sleep with the setting sun. Above your head, the starry sky. People, accustomed to the pictures you learned in childhood, drawn among the stars, don't listen when you tell them what you discover there. What your imagination has combined into an image. You escape into sleep.
Your makeup is ruined. Black traces of strokes appear on your face. You approach even closer to the edge. You push into the mysterious valley hidden there, obscured by clouds. You take a step forward. You fall. You fall for the first and last time... Or maybe not?
You wake up. You get up in a hurry and flee. You run through a meadow that's slowly dying, just like everyone slowly dies. Day after day. The meadow turns into a desert. You run until a precipice stops you.

And the loop closes.

* * *
Life intertwined with sleep. Sleep tangled with dreams. Time chasing moments.