Thursday, January 22, 2015

Ancestral Gates

Waking dreams and dreaming shakes, I slept a vision of blue white gates. To travel far away from here, leave the pain for a world that’s clear.
               A water-like explosion erupts from the center of an old circle. The ancient object wears white scratches all across its older than old gray surface. Not brick, nor rock; not metal, nor alloy. This gate is strong enough to open a portal to the other side of imagination, reality be damned. To escape the feeling that this is all we have and it’s only getting worse. Pretend for an hour that life’s not sour with breathing as a curse.
               The room is empty, save some metal stairs, to lead us through the hole. Safety protocols suggest a probe be sent ahead of our departure, to make safe the interstellar ride. With no probes existing, it will be fate that we’re twisting, as a first foot plunges inside.
               If the stories do ask, the purpose and task, for risking a possible doom. For me, I would just tell them, a fake truth to dispel them, our real reasons are our hell. It’s not a seek for adventure, but an escape from indenture, that walks me through the well.

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