The Pathless path

You move onto it as a function of the absence of time and space, so the velocity is not relative but almost reinforced by a tension between extremes expanding beyond control.

The sound of that is not one of silence or calmness, but more so a roaring lightning in a heavy downpour of endless rain hammering on your heartbeat rising through falling into a void that echoes a stillness denied.

The path looks back at you. You don’t look onto it. Instead, it pulls you into a seclusion so obsolete that renders it pathless in the mirror of your faceless sight upon it.

Neither can see the other, thus what disappears is not the sight per se but the air that carries the drops of light onto a refraction of an instant escaping charge of energy that sheds itself to regain its former glory, not recognizing what that was in the first place.

The light fades into the sound, dissolving into the movement, and only then you are found pathless, faceless, with a sight that can go beyond the promise of a glory where rest — you can — finally.

For leaving you remains the You that can’t be remembered nor is diminished in the eyes of an eternity shy of its shadow calling for an agonizing birth to savor the newborn pathless path you just were found on.

Don’t drink from this to replenish but to stay so sure you are unsure — the rush doesn’t subdue the will, and in the space denied, the tension finds its home.

Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~