Silence. The eerie calm before the storm.
Where are we? What world is this? What is this happening?
Scared to speak, scared to reach for the hand of another. The only law we follow is entropy.
What is not in operation shall inevitably decay. What is not well worked will fall into disrepair.
Does not the unused word gather dust in cognition?
Does not the ill used acquire another meaning?
If such a thing as meaning is fickle it casts no shadow of doubt that integrity too shall be rendered to sand; that might shall be made weakness and that truth shall be imposed upon by lies.
The squall howls inside the bottled mind, its matchstick ship suffering blow after blow. The anchor has been lost in a sea of misconception.
The birth of consciousness begins in the water.