HVMXN BYND

Some, where you’ve never been,

Some, where you’ve never known,

Within battlefields burned

Burnt to the ground, temples and castles

The war was fought.

the end.

When they rushed the labs, they expected demons and monsters. Instead, they found human children. The humans were quite adult in age, yet juvenile in their ways. Targeted for their views of the world, their lies of meaninglessness replaced with lies of purpose.

Their adult bodies, a prison made of flesh, imprisoned the souls of broken children within. Their words a prerecorded message of fear described as righteousness.

As the poor scratched at the walls, searching in the darkness for an escape, the scratches of the inner manifest as the scars of the outer.

She thought she was combating an enemy. The enemy was never real.

She thought she was spreading truth. She spewed toxins.

She thought she had found purpose. She had.

She was in the spotlight, and the world was darker for that.

They stood facing the other side.

In unison, the humans raised their weapons, taking aim.

A hand, swooping down from the heavens.

Now, all weapons turned towards self.

The Command: “Address your demons or die by their hand.”

The gunfire sounds: deafening.

Finally,

A New World Would Emerge.

Day after day. Play after play. Move after move. It really felt circular. Progress. Progress. Progress. Then arrival at start again.

There comes a point, or more commonly there never comes a point, where enough is enough. The lure loop I call it. Running. Running. Running. Yet suspended in air: the effort equal; the progress unnoticed.

Ripping, thrashing and grabbing. “What is happening here!?” Ripping. Thrashing. Grabbing. There must be an invisible cord, a removable device, something has to stop this.

As I ripped, thrashed and grabbed at the world around me, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I screamed. Screaming at anyone that could hear. Screaming at the world around me. Screaming at the gods.

Then, screaming at myself, I stopped. Then, it stopped. Stillness.

In this stillness it became clear: I would start again.  It would start again. In the stillness laid opportunity and choice. It would soon begin, again, but in the stillness this became clear.

It always ends. It always begins. What is it? It is our choice. The constant is constant. The choice is variable.

The choice of stillness, for now.

In my stillness, I would sit. The more still I remained the more the world around me became visible. The world around me twisted and twirled, bloomed and blossomed, gasped and died. Over and over. Again and again.

I would soon choose action over stillness, again. It would soon begin, again.

Always choosing. Never ending. Stillness and action.

Through The Grand Labyrinth, we tumble.

I tumble.

It has become apparent that everything is this and that. Well, we’re the ore. Extract gems from the soul, you know.

And when it comes to picking sides, we just walk down the middle. The seas part every time. Time is but an illusion, maybe a construct. The word is unimportant. The point, we use it to our advantage.

What happens next? Well, that happened last year here, and last year happens tomorrow. Tomorrow, I start what I’ll finish today.

By the way, while we’re on the topic: today the portal opens, and I’m hoping we can pull something through. The whole purpose is for the rewind; then we’ll have something to send back. Do you get it?

Anyways, we were sent to deliver a message, which is funny because the road back is where we receive it. Come to think, we delivered it. Did anyone read it?

Tumbling for 5 years.

Only to wake up 10 minutes later. 

This is the 4th year since the trip. 

This is the 4th year of the tumble. 

I wonder if this is life.

Will I wake up? 

Lucifer lands in the sands. 

He stands with his plans making glass with his hands. 

Build a pyramid. Make it black. 

Build a table. Just for the Jack. 

Build another: Takin dues when they crap. 

Slide the dollar in the slot, “Oh, he ain’t comin back.”

There is a club: To be a member you just play. 

And if you spend a thousand dollars, we will throw in a buffet. 

Patience. That was my first plan. This strategy was met with failure as we sank in the sand where we sat.

Climbing out. I couldn’t climb out. I had cut the extra weight long ago; still, the essential weights grew heavier by the day.

Ashes. I would build with ash.

Art. I would create with ash.

Ashes. Ashes all around.

We won’t have to climb if the world turns to ash.

The bell tolls; the damning bell tolls.

Waves. Splash.

Waves. Crash.

The bell tolls.

Healing sounds and ash.

Black paint dripping off my garments. These were like gold, at least from this royal bloodline.

Spit. PLOP. It looked like blood. Only it was redder. Clap Clap Clap. The devil knocks at the door, but you wouldn’t know; I know.

The interview went well. First, establishing dominance with both and putting ego at peace; we would proceed.

Yeah, I was a year late and three years early. It didn’t matter though. Most were still unaware that spaceship earth had left its path long ago and was now hurling to a future of new and a past of old.

Cognitively aware. Insanely committed. Also, divinely neutral.

The oracles were accounted for. The weaponry had arrived. Alone, we walk at night.

The wormholes turned out to be in the ocean. All the lands were platforms. The water an illusion. It was just air. The air around us: it turned out to be water.

There were large openings in the depths intentionally omitted by maritime mapping.