I live inside a big, transparent sphere with a Blue Ocean for a sky and clouds made of Love…And it envelopes everything.
When I stare up, I feel as if can see its spherical shape – like I can see the bend coming in the distance; that place where the horizon breaks and begins to descend.
And in this sphere, transparent and evanescent, I feel myself reflected.
And if I look hard enough, I can almost see it from above, from Outside this Gigantic Sphere, as if hovering on top.
I see it free and detached from me, but somehow linked by something far deeper and more transcendent than time or space.
I see it hold everything like glue. I see it as the Base — the Foundation of Everything.
I see its soil — made from grass, dirt and blood — feed the life that grows on top.
And then I see the Life which feeds on itself to start over again.
I see it adorned and set in motion by the birds that glide from one end of the sphere to the other.
I see it as it really is: Vast, Expanse and Finite, too — almost mortal.
I see the outer shell of the sphere eroded and stomped on, crusty and bleeding.
I see its body battered and torn, overrun with skyscrapers and chimneys billowing black smoke.
I see its lungs filled with fog, tar and oil, and suffocating to death.
I see it unable to move and constrained, replete and bursting at the seams with Walking Scavengers.
And yet…I still see the sphere for what it really is: that place that holds Everything. That which feeds the weak and quenches the thirsty…but the strong and greedy, too.
I see it flush with green leaves and innocent like a child, or like the young Gazette, who’s beautiful and free and also the prey.
I see remote places, untouched and unscathed by the Walking Scavenger, who Builds with Scars and whose Blood runs thick with Mortar and Tar; the Scavenger who with Steel and War has taken us so Far…and yet has never seen or felt this Sphere – my Star.
I see the sphere trying to survive and play host at the same time.
But the longer I look, the darker the sphere gets and the angrier the river runs.
It’s now hard to look into the Sphere, when it’s blocked by Lightning and Rain that falls from the ground…backwards like the moment I first came here.
The clouds have grown angry and ditched Love for Revenge, and the blue ocean runs black like oil and death.
I live inside this Sentient Sphere which I cannot touch but always Feel…This sphere that holds and reflects me…
But then dark turns to black and cold turns to ice…And I see Nothing More.