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Feb 2014
In this violet hour, as dreams court demons and the seams holding the ocean of your soul threaten to split and spill forth your essence into the sky above, time almost seems to stand still. The space around you becomes skewed as gravity gives way to weightless flight above a world that never made sense to you in the first place. All the pain, persecution, and perils that are inflicted upon such immense portions of the populations of no one single nation, but all races, creeds, and castes, and at the end of the day it all boils down to the search for the almighty dollar. But none of that matters to you anymore. As you are borne on by invisible wings along the waves of the universe, guided towards the boundaries of feeling, you begin to embrace the emptiness that is nothingness. Your once harried mind now free from the chaos of being, unclouded by delusions of grandeur and eternity, you allow yourself all the time you need to enjoy this respite from thought. Time has become meaningless. Eons pass, knowable existence collapsing inwards on itself, only to explode into radiance and vitality once more. The cycle continues, hundreds of times in the space of time necessary to form a few sentences, while at the same time accelerating to such a point that galaxies could be traversed in the breadth of a heartbeat. Adrift in the void, with no tether back to the realm of mortals, the only course of action is to allow yourself to be lost to sightless visions and wordless descriptions of an existence that you can no longer remember.
Andrew Switzer
Written by
Andrew Switzer  New York
(New York)   
917
   Dr Mike OConnell, --- and ---
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