Weary and wanting from the ache inside No emotion at any depth I try to hide A hollow pit waiting for something to burn You can fill up the spaces but there’s always a way out Down through the tunnel and out to be more Th urge once again rises and the search continues No absolute but a constant hope to be fulfilled Something sufficient Providing contentment Would the pursuit transform into another I beg for a new world Or perhaps a new heart No matter how hard I try Trying is the opposite of actuality A veil over reality by our thoughts and layers of excuses to manifest In the end there is nothing and in the beginning there was nothing The gap that leads into infinity An understanding of a black hole empathically Maybe it really does hold a universe How natural is it to be empty and yet create boundaries of space and time We perceive the outside but in essence is it truly empty Or is it a hole even? Perhaps we perceive a sphere but in higher dimensions we’d see it as what we understand to be a tunnel Where would it take us I think it will only take us to another land where we translate the hunger into a new form The multiverse is just another reason to keep searching after we’ve only found half the answers in this one It seems we never even finish what we start Because we fear the end We’ve made it fatal in our minds When our soul knows nothing may be permanent here There is a universe that came before all of this where we truly exist And know this is a game that we’ve played for eons To entertain ourselves To evolve as the divine always has Transcending labels because it moves regardless of our insignificant judgements Will the static stagnation into a dynamic situation Simultaneous reaction Awake while in a dream Looking for an opening and the maze will always grow Let it go
Aunt Lottie had a slow and careful walk every step could jar the delicate balance of the fragile grand piano she had swallowed.
It was no ordinary instrument it was entirely made of crystal which added to the fears of its disturbance or destruction by the simplest slip or stumble or missed footing on a step.
It was a slight inconvenience she had taken in her stride. Matters concerning the said piano were only discussed in hushed tones on Wednesday afternoons and only with her dearest nephew, Ludwig who sensitively seemed to understand the precious nature of imagination and the tickling discomforts of digested furniture and such things as fancy may create.