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Suspended in a Cave

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  • Suspended in a Cave

    An eidolon craving in moments best kept alone; I am subject to the fancies, digressions, and winding ways.
    My face is that of the world's own, and I can only but see through my own eyes, and taste with a tongue,-- to be solely forgotten, then?
    Time it takes, tells me why each gilded moment leads the clock by the hand, and how each knave of white and black, each play and counter play, the attack -- all dross and in the sun turn to nothing again.
    Servitude to this cycle, being blind, hoping for more, the sunlight won't get in. Lost, wrong, vision in the streets carried away; there's jail, there's the wild out there, there's the numb outcomes.
    Destitute, like a broken crucifix hangs; with worry, and wonder, and little thought at what is wrought. Sitting there over the water, a black figure dancing its reflection in the light. My eyes open up.
    Winter doesn't freeze fully this time.
    I mean, I'm inside, this gross machine keeps chugging, what does it run on? Me. There's me, pain to substance bound, thick throngs of lined-up passengers, now they're habituated, and complete. Through glass and amber seen.
    And the globes of snow shaken up reveal not much more than before. Though we watch them, and change along with the world around. Though the color fades sometimes, unknown.
    What do I touch though. Listening for the words, sounds, feeling, thought interposed. And I lose 'me' in a hundred ways each moment, linked to this wood.
    Tether, chain, the world of vapor, smoke, gas. Liquid almost is.
    Then, what?
    It must mean something.
    That's an injunction? Something to a meaningful time.

    Whiling away the hours, uncaring, dancing in this maze.

  • #2
    time not moving in this cave. great write.