Unreachable

Our society is proudly marching in the complete wrong direction in a multitude of ways, and everyone is too busy playing on their smart phones to notice. I look around so often and ask, why is everything just so fucked up? There are so many things about our modern culture that just don't make any sense at all, but we all just go along with it, because who is the individual to question the majority? We judge, bully, reject and kill, we torture and starve, rape and neglect. Addicted to unreachable perfection, falling short every time because nothing is realistic or accepted. Everything is prejudged and judged. We crave brands to be accepted and we lie to be loved. We lie to ourselves, even though we know that everyone else is lying as well. The world is just full of lies, in marketing education, and politics. Boys are allowed to waltz around and treat girls like they're worthless, and most of our music is just misogynistic bullshit that we eagerly lap up because it has a nice beat and of course, because everyone else is doing it.  

Did you waltz into the fire?

The day has ended, we are into the night; the strands of daylight whisked away and replaced by an unseeable black, which covers all in bright darkness. What have you achieved? How have you used your hours awake? Did you smell the breath of the sea as you dived off a cliff into the swirling ocean? Did you ride a muscular horse bareback as he galloped roughly through the desert, clinging to his mane? Did you understand someone and see who they really are; did you glance inside their soul and view the true definition of your complicated relationship? Or did you fall madly in love with someone whom you should for everything it's worth despise, but their beautiful eyes just got you and you felt some crazy urge to kiss them? Did you learn a true and unyielding fact that blew your brain into helpless smithereens, and left you begging for life to make sense again? Did you break a promise, walk away from a commitment, or make a devastating change? Did you steal someone's glory, did you bask in some form of shame, did you walk a tight tight rope across someone's conscience? Did you make some small correction, or alter some small fear; did you make some small objection or did you waltz into a fire? Did you use this day, this God given day and the life you have been blessed with? Or did this day, like the others, get snatched away by your immediate and dominant pleasures, as you watched things pass you by, miserably moping on account of nothing happening? Use the day and your humanity as you take the air from this planet like gold from a piggy bank; make all the pain worthwhile, because this calm and pleasant contentment and this glorious beautiful world is there for you, when you're ready for it. Make the next day and the next the ones that count.   

Nothing but sky

The sky is dark blue, like a summer crystal with a shade of night exploding in the dark dust above him. He's on a cliff, which throws him into the air above the ground below, until all the trees look like broccoli and the men like action figures from a children's toy set. It's winter, so with this summer sky with it's purple and fiery blue colours comes his breath, pale as death into the air, like the smoke from a dragon's throat as he coughs and sneezes with a seasonal cold. He stands there, taking all of this in, rubbing his white and pink hands together, contemplating what it all means.

Here, there is nothing but sky, it outstretches over everything, cuddling the corners of that tiny earth. And here he is, standing in it, breathing into it, giving it life as it floats around him like bubbles from a boiling bath; one that would wrinkle your skin and warm you to the bone. The broccoli sways below in the strong wind that soars through the earth and the little plastic men totter from place to place with these realistic aims and ideas. Look at them go, look at them live! He cannot see their smiles, he is too far away, but he knows they are there. Protruding from their ageing faces, like shining beacons of hope.

He should go and join them, he is one of them. But yet, he is not. There is no shining beacon of hope splashed across his face from summer rain; only hard crystal eyes sent from the fire of winter, sent with what he's seen and what he understands. He stretched out his cold hands and closed those eyes, and the lights went out in the world. Everyone, everything, was still. Time seemed to pause, holding it's breath, waiting, as this one man stood and contemplated everything and nothing, the end and the beginning, life and death, happiness and distress.

Tears that seemed black in this bright night dropped like tiny silver bullets onto the dark grass below him, and he watched them as they soaked like daggers into the brown ground. The figures were tottering again, though the trees still seemed frozen and waiting. He lowered his hands and clenched his teeth, the wind blowing his jacket, gnawing at his chest. What were they waiting for? Nothing. They could do without him.

And then with a bang and a crack and a blinding flash which fired up like morning and then burned out like dusk, he was gone. There was a sizzling black singed mark where he had been standing, and the birds in the nearest tree gaped with their beaks open in wonder. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. The men, the women, they tottered. The trees, they bent and swayed. The wind howled as the night wore on, but the man was gone. He just didn't hope to understand. It was beyond everything he knew.