Like a movie, the memories pass you by. What has just been is already gone, the moment seems unreal to you, transient, without grip, a life without hold. No space that seems permanent, flooded by time that takes away its form even before its structures can become solid. Your life in the meantime, in the gap – mere dying, mere becoming.
It is so real beyond the rigidity that you have believed to be true throughout your life, that describes your world between birth and death. And yet you continue to hold on to this inertia. After all, it is so familiar to you. The freedom you have learned – it imprisons you, makes you dependent and immobile. There are dreams of freedom that have to be realized.
And now you are stuck in your waking dream. Taking space, and in the same breath, time – working on the decay of your form. Every second of your existence a rebellion against the natural flow. You have cemented your channels and tried to steer them in the right direction – and yet you now find yourself powerless in the face of time, which is taking away all that you have built with its help.
It is difficult now to see beyond, into the space in between, the time in between. Constantly present, yet so inconspicuous. Your eyes have become accustomed to the form and no longer recognize its translucency. You see the sharp divisions.
And yet you have become blind.
