#fromadarkspace

Nothing escapes as you gaze over the wide wasteland. Nothing escapes the power at hand, lying hidden beyond the dust that tires our eyes. Yet you see through, yet you take the next step. Seeming like a step on a treadmill, hopeless and yet you know. You know with a profound certainty. Know that only opposition creates friction on a slippery path. Know that only resistance has the power to create.

And eventually we will take off on our wings and take flight. As we are embraced by a much stronger wind. One which can not be resisted, one which will shake all of our foundations. As we grasp the sun we may remember those roots. The ones which gave us meaning. The ones breathing the air which we take flight on.

What it meets is a ball of light. Like water and air, like fire and dust. Dashing towards every side. Fleeing from unity in the denial of outside force. Taking the decision to be alone, to defy the government of brute force. Leaving a shattered space, leaving a dark space.

Their steps seem to float. Not touching the ground, as their elegance imprints on our daily breaths. And they bring about a different day. A day to choose, a day to live. A day commenced in a wind of change.

Times come and times go. And just what is persists. Not it's story, not it's assets but a silhouette, a symbol which outlives thousands of generations. It seems to rule time without power. A charming and gentle breeze to strike the edges into our castle of glass. It sets the boundaries in an open world, it empowers the most lively debate within it's frontiers and reinforces the system. A system of endless possibilities. A seat for the king of this world and all those that may eventually come into existence.

All the light reflected back to where it came from. All the problems we might see covered in a white blanket. Just for a few days, to connect with what we left behind. Childhood memories and dreams of wonder.

One to speak. One to listen. One to unite the mind, yet two sides in dialogue. The one who rises in spontaneity with the one who thinks and processes. The one who feels with the one that pushes through. They are united in you, united by a strange connection. One that is not limited to physicality, but the space in which existence becomes possible. The space where all aspects meet, negotiating with strong or silent voices. A network that sometimes seems to defy all reason. A party drawing all parts together. Connecting them into something. Something called me.

The day passes and as we rember you in a joyful memory, your colors fade. The radiant blossom closing once more. Feeling like going back. Back to a seed merely forming a sprout. And as you unfold we see a different beauty. The white wisdom of your days. Patiently waiting. Waiting for the wind to spread what you want to give. A legacy and a purpose. For yet another day to shine and for life to carry on. Carry on with warming hearts and painting laughter.