The all that is nothing and everything

Inthedark or is it light? I can’t quite see my footsteps leave a shimmer across my perception of where I am which is shaky and uncertain but I know that I am though I can’t know what I am or how I am or why I am I just am

For now

And I think I move through this nothingness that must be somethingness just because if I am and I exist then what I perceive must be and exist even if it’s not quite there or not quite as real as I am

I feel myself itch and I quiver in my mind

I hear noises and I turn but instead of me turning the world turns around me the world or whatever this place is it spins and spins and spins and STOP.

There

Dead ahead is a light a ring of light that shines yellow through the dark and then it shines dark through the light and I’m transfixed it’s not a ring yet but a sliver of light that is growing around a circle and I can’t look away

I look away

It appears again in front of me wherever I look it looks back at me a ring of yellow light in dark or dark in light. It grows. It consumes. My eye. That’s what it is it’s my eye staring back at me from a nothing that is everything and I’m inside it all and outside of everything. I blink and it reappears slowly

From it all

The all that is nothing and everything

And then I remember.

There was something delicious about the air that night that ruffled the grass and played through the leaves in the trees and sang songs across the water that enveloped me. Her hand on my hand and the tiny hairs on her arm felt like velvet on silk as I sank beneath her timidity. She lay like an ocean before me and I tasted her salt on my skin

The all that is nothing and everything:

She melted from me like a snowflake on an outstretched palm.

Life.

I matter because I live or I think I live because I appear to be matter though I can’t be sure in this current state and I cling to the idea of existence though in reality I cling to nothing because I have no arms that I can see though I can sometimes feel a movement in the dark and it makes me happy

Or is it memory?

I remember an arm or I remember happiness because there is no arm and there is no happy or sad there is just this a me of sorts gazing back at me out of the darkthat’slight pulling my thoughts around and around without purpose.

I look for answers out of habit

And I can see it all. A world that’s every colour at once stretching as far as the eye can see this eye and that eye gazing left and right surveying scene after scene in marvellous high definition. The sounds so crisp the tastes so compelling the sensations so present.

I draw a line

The sand parts falling back in on itself as the indentation settles and I write my name a sound made physical in temporary lettering that will be obliterated by the sound of a wave and the push of water the pull of the tide and the steady tick of time that has made me and made this world and made this memory that floats adrift in nothing and despite the emptiness I can hear the wave and I can hear the clock and I know the time

Under the stars

That wheel around us as we spin to face a new sky every night we track the movement of their dying light and we call our fortunes fate to add a sense of order to events that are just because they are and because they weren’t another way

And it hurts

To know that every possibility that slipped by every alternative road I could have taken were in many ways the same as the ones I grasped and the roads I did walk and that my life if not pre-destined was certainly somewhat foretold because unless I dared to push the balance bar to tipping point I would never be propelled to dizzying heights or fall to sickening depths

Because the middle is where I exist

So my accomplishments are lost along with the memories of a few people who knew me for a collection of moments and now I’m no more. Suspended in a lack of animation an over-stimulated imagination thinking of all the things that could have been if I weren’t me and I was somewhere else and something else for another reason

And it’s beautiful

This temporary life that begins by chance and ends by the slow ebb and tide of a ticking clock that pulls us all to one certain end.

The all that is nothing and everything

His touch was gentle and his arms were delicately masterful they guided me they pushed me they brought me back around and clung to me two bodies in a city of strangers crushed together by the magnitude of inexplicable connection. I breathed his scent I kissed his skin I opened my mouth and drank him in and I know he lived because I can smell him now I can feel his touch and I live again in a thousand shared moments

And the darkness melts into memory and the memories fade to darkness and the darkness gives way to the knowledge that without memory there is no time

Without memory I am

For now

The all that is nothing and everything

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