Those stars we reach for
stay in a dark hole, infundibular store, somewhere in galactic fantasy
sucked in, they die; blown up, they light our night-sky
the darkness we hide is our reality, the rest is our playful imagination that crawls, walks, runs and flies
set in a space digitalised by our mental keypad strokes
scrolled up, down and aligned from left to right, right to left and every which way on whole
a dimension for each thought, a revelation for each belief, a prayer for the unimaginable unknown
in this multidimensional mirror maze, where our eyes gaze at each other from every corner and space
we are left to die or live in waste
if we do not create something in haste as soon as we are taught that a comatose child is the star
that dropped into our lap when it is just our imagination worked up to a solid white
its dark falling on the blind eye, creation sets creatures against each other
you die, i live, i die, you live or we all die together and others take over
In this space we create for ourselves we accomodate many who have eaten into our space
and we eat them, kill them, raze them, overthrow, we create more and more emptiness in our imaginary play field
filling it up with plastic, concrete and the immovable, indestructible even by us
thus we lend our idea of immortality to such things who edge us out one by one
killing our creativity by replacing it with routine, mundane existence
that has lost its power to know only one good thing
how to occupy space and darken it by blocking the sun that stood for our collective gifts
our collective gift of throwing light on what we could be had we been atoms
atoms that weren’t afraid to draw heat, share heat, fire-up, light-up, burn, ablaze with blitzkreig creativity
and explode into billions of sub-atomic light-giving diamonds of brilliance
hard to stare at, but lighting up the path to get out through the dark hole from which stars escape at night