It all goes by us in less than a flurry. A company of iotas passing by in the ravishing second. It didn’t take a second chance or a fleeting look back at that which we cherish. It all faded out, converged, diverged, separated and blacked out in front of us like the curtain that separates us from illusion and reality and in between we hang on a nuclear thread. I wonder where the initiation hit us and when the brakes failed as we tumbled downhill together, a silence at the pits of hell. It doesn’t seem like an end nor a new beginning, it seems like the eradication of all humanity as we walk bleeding towards the finish line. The curtains have been let loose, the drums have proclaimed their ode and the crowd has cheered their resoluting cry, and all that remains is the silence prevailing the act.
What is the difference, as the intuition yells at us in the chatter encompassing our minds as we shatter to go our separate ways and yet remain in the same void? What was the silence before the act and what is the silence after? Does the difference matter, or has the act already spoken our words for us and has left us dormant? I wonder which step made me falter and which splinter pricked you heartlessly. I wonder why the words couldn’t carry the weight that made us blunder and err to the irrevocability of a sin. The repentance that we have left to fulfil the vacancy of the once blooming verdancy, it all seems so lost and yet so foreign but often the only concluding choice.
I can’t help but contemplate the words that remain everpresent in my yet fading subconsciousness as I pretend to move even by the slightest difference or a minute alteration as every passing day seems lost, unarchived in history as the noise deafens into a numbing silence and the breath wavers evermore. I wonder when we all got so starstruck, lost in the chaos that now seems beautiful. When did one giggling step transition into a million steps taken alone? How did the full stop that was supposed to bring hope after the commotion, turned into the final drop of blood concealing our act?
I hope for a discrepancy in the now still chaos as it remains unfaltering every day, as it conceals all our sense of sanity left dormant now into a relentless pang in the heart that ceases to reduce. As we move among the living that lose sight of life and the breathing that reduces to illness, I pray to take that ounce of pain so as to spare others. I wish to be the symphony that shall envelop the silence prevailing the act.