I can hear them whispering about me, calling me by name, beckoning, they want me to follow, they want me to fall, just like they did.
Reality is ■■■■■■■ melting, the fabric of this realm bleeds before me, objects breath, flickering of candle light and embers.
Faces flash into clear view. There are so many of them, and none are a familiar face. I don’t know these souls. But they know me.
Ready for either oblivion or paradise, depending on how the sun shines.
They keep asking me if I’m a prophet, and I don’t know how to rationalize subjective truth. What makes me different than them? What I’m I lacking? What are they?
Wings ache when subjected to ascension, easier to glide, but you never know where you’ll land, past the brink and down in the mists.
Like waking from a dream, it will all come back, free again amongst cosmic primordials, a will and law unto myself. It’s a release, it’s whole, it’s what I truly am, not this prison, this biologic cage.
Someday I’ll have my answers. Until then, I’ll try to stay quiet, keep my head down. Try not to follow the rabbit hole to far.
Be safe, thank you for reading.
