Two points, joined together by tiny specks of floating extensions of reality. A pair of two points. One existing in the molecular and micro level, the other on the macro side of things. Both joined in simultaneous existential crisis through the movement of their wormholes. Nerves and nebulae. The two parts of a same celestial entity joining us within the infinite abyss’ of the mind and the universe. I see you in my mind, amongst the million eyes that make up part of the darkness within the closed physical eyes. So many thoughts. Extending out towards you, engulfing you into mine. Heads joined and fingers holding on, naked bodies. We seem in suspended animation, only fleeting glimpses of each other.
Hurtling into the vastness of space, as two quarks in a plasma state, and we believe to be Gods of all that we see. Not knowing how every day would play out in our lives, not knowing our quests are all part of bigger systematic entropy to make us believe in death, not feeling the way we are supposed to. As David Bowie goes, ‘we can be heroes, but just for one day’. Yes, we can be. Heroes for each other. Without us, the world would be lost in the transience of disparate communications. The madness, insanity consuming my self to follow yours too. Why do we talk about letting go? I haven’t caught you in my peripheral vision yet, I haven’t yet enjoyed the warmth of your breath against my lips on a cold, winter night. We can’t talk about that. We can never talk about things that may give us an inkling to stress our silken threads of bare existence. Fully clothed, I’m still as naked as new born baby. I expect to be the dandelion which you protect against breezes that threaten to take my feathers away. The truth of our impermanence, the wants of our flesh and the need to stay quiet. Like the may fly, we have a day. A day to live for each other, to live with each other. And everything washes away like being put under an endless waterfall. There’s going to be no stop to what we have to do within our existence. We are the rambunctious two. The two flipping sides of the same coin, the knuckles and palm of the same hand. Wishful thinking and exhausting ourselves completing those wishes. As precise as entropy could be, it remains to be seen how the lines lay out a road. Like a child gone astray on a white washed wall, free supply of crayons, no parent in sight. While we randomly collide against our very own space-time continuum, we form the patterns that take us into themselves. The patterns that are our very own portkeys. And when we reach the other side of our perspectives, we draw more pattern portkeys and reach a different dimension. All this while, holding hands, never letting go. My darling, you talk about changing the world, give a thought to the upheavals in my own world. The changing patterns of my own mind, creating space to accommodate all that you give me. Conscious, unconscious, subconscious. All of what I was, am, will be, you’ve deconstructed, stirred in a gigantic pot, added your own self to it and here we are. Two points in eternity, swirling through the fluidic state of space. Slowing down infinitesimally into two standing points with the whole universe and accompanying universes around us.
Now, when you come in front of me, your solid state in view, I see you. I see you as the beautiful alien that you are to me. A state of awe, beating heart and then I know I exist too. We are shaken, but then we are still. We move and then we stop. Such duality, arising from the same embers of a forest we once burned down. Walking over the bridge that we attempted to break down, my simple skills lost in astonishment of your existence.
We still exist, as two points in the infinite wisdom of eons. We exist as the universe.


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