"It was a blackhole."
There are things in my life that I just don't understand. Like the time when I fell into a blackhole.
"No one falls into a black hole. And if they do, they don't survive!"
Well, I did fall into a black hole. And that explains things that I can't reason with. The ghosts that appear in my memory, the imaginary scenes I find myself creating, the things that haunt me.
But it's arguable whether I survived. In fact, I would agree with you that I did not. I was, in fact destroyed. And the things that haunt me are not ghosts of others or memories from my life. They are my own ghosts, and memories from the past life.
Who ever said that past lives only occur in the physical realm? My past lives are all in this lifetime. For example, I used to be a hippie. I used to be a Texan. I used to be a smoker. I used to be afraid of death.
Now, I travel through my life with "patience and low expectations." Death will give those things to you.
2 comments:
this would make a good poem, a prose poem. of course it needs editing, but it should def. be a poem.
Thanks. Good Suggestion. How about part of ap oetic play? Becuase it's already been cut and paste into the script...
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