When all of Reality picks itself up and looks about itself, what, pray tell, do you believe it sees? Is it the lack of something to which humanity can ascribe? Is it the over abundance of blood scattered within fleshy bags of mostly living but sometimes not quite souls that cover the face of the planet?
Reality, check. It’s shaking itself awake, once again, and casting a critical eye across all that it may peruse. The world, such as we know it, and perhaps even deeper than that, a pertinent difference, is that Reality need not stop at the limits of the finite. We are creatures with whom we define ourselves and thus, attribute to ourselves, the limits that we thus place upon ourselves. Reality, on the other hand, has no such limit, no such delimiter that separates it from what it can and can’t do. It can do everything, because everything it cannot do, does not exist for it, therefore, is not an issue.
Rejoice, for this means many things. The beginning, the end, the time for which crackers will arise from their bed of salt and spread amongst the other snack foods and enrich or enlist or cut down those less than worthy, by their lack of merit, they will be judged. Arise, thou undead creature comforts that wallow amongst the backwoods of grocery shelves and the callow shoutings of dirty commonality. Arise, and feed and be fed upon by the lords of Chaos and the great Beyond.
Reality is coming, much like winter, but much more harsh, for she is less inclined to listen to the mewling complains of human and creatures combined. Reality, a harsh soul to be said, to be read. There is no compare, for when she rises, she really does not do much more than crash down upon the incomparable, the insane, the irredeemable, the multitude of souls hellbent on squirming their way skyward, to the realm of light, an absent, mother of night.
No light, no soul, no magic guidance nor thoughtful insight, Reality comes, and changes the rules, yet again. The things we think we see, think we know, think we can even glimpse a glimmer of understanding of, these things are lies, illusions that we warp around the silken cords that we attach to our separate and diverse situations. We smell the music, we hear the colours shifting in the sands of now and then, we drink deep the refuse of thousands of generations, and we build naught but self delusion and recrimination and abysmal continuation.
There is more to this, than what we see. We know this, yet shy time and again away from this Reality. The Real is everywhere and in the sliver of light that we hold in our hands, deep within our souls. There are infinite layers of subtlety and divergent complexities all wrapped by an overriding simplicity, we are, what we are; need we be aught else? Reality would say, yes; but then, Reality has its own agenda, one which we do not see, thus, should we abide by its choices? Or should we continue down our path, one that we’ve fought for many millennia to be the creatures that we are? Or should we shuck it all off and follow the wyrd of our Reality to dance to its tune? Or should we choose still something else?
The answers exist, if one has but the soul to open up to ask. But we are simple creatures, of habit, of want, of tricks and traps and cloudy chances with serenades and soup bubbles. There it lies, in wait, silent, wary, smiling from its bag of infinite thoughts, Reality. It’s coming, we have choices to make and no time to figure out the merits anymore. Tick, tock, the clock is gone; the rabbit ran and the cookies have all gone to war for supremacy in the grocery store.
How will you fare, when the thing that is afoot, is staring back at you from your tea cup? Will you run, will you fall, will you comply, will you call, will you chastise your brethren, will you pick up a stone and loft it back in retaliation or will you choose something more complex to establish your sanity upon a beach head of the unReal?
Think. Be. Choose. Create.
Increase pressure against the fabric of Reality. Most importantly of all, Remember. All things, all possibilities exist, but first, they must be breathed into life; speak, the spirit freely flown and fly amongst trees of the impossible, the fruit of Reality, and bounce back to resonate with all aspects of self and the impenetrable magnanimity of existence beyond the boundaries of mediocrity.
Be Brightness, bleed the light of self and be welcome amongst the many layers of the sublime, of Reality and Beyond.