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:iconalecbell: More from AlecBell


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September 9, 2011
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Suppose each one of us older than the stars,
suppose that we are other than the ragged beggars we seem,
suppose that our engulfing slumber, our inner darkness,
is constantly erupting with the vanity of dreams.

Consider those uncounted aeons swallowed in the oceans
of that virtuality, where we, the ever drowning mariners,
must cling to the absurd shapes we call reality.

Will we, unknowing captives, ever be free?
Has liberty become our cage of captivity?
Oh yes, we writhe, our nakedness become despair.
as our frenzied touching reveals that nothing's there.
All you need ....
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:iconalmcdermid:
almcdermid Sep 15, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
. . . is to suppose.

We are free. It's part of our 'problem' though preferable to the alternative.
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:iconalmcdermid:
almcdermid Sep 15, 2011  Hobbyist Writer
:nod:
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:iconalecbell:
:iconbowplz:

Thank you, Canan.
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:iconirvon:
Second stanza is my favourite. The absurd shapes of reality indeed! Not long ago, a friend of mine and me came to the conclusion that "nothing is consistent", or rather "nothing is consistent" (so nothing as a thing, paradoxically enough). Great piece, Alec.
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:iconalecbell:
Thank you, Herman :iconbowplz:
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:iconneuroticmnemonic:
neuroticmnemonic Sep 12, 2011   Writer
Had me at the first line. Wow.

I can't think of anything worthy of tweaking here. Your words are awesome. Down-right.
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