From bastard peckerlings on through to the North Sepulchre, I find myself returning over and over, becoming somewhat inundated by the always sheer magnitude of a billion rocks asking, “Am I special? Look over here at me!”
Sometimes transfixing on the far-off but still visible gate that lies ahead, I trudge mindlessly into a sub-dimensional reality that is as real as the gate I journey to, yet this is the only path of which I am aware at this moment. “Yes, you are a very cool rock”, I tell one rock, then the next. Rocks rearranged spells Corks, and like corks, a rock's self-image must remain afloat long enough to become noticed by some passerby who feels a kinship with said stone, the two being related by dust.
“Whoa” I exclaim as the gate undulates to and fro as I kick it as a result of my inattention to my whereabouts in this sub-dimension with these rocks. I quickly re-ascertain my position relative to my truck and to the hierarchy of which I am a part, and then start to gaze down at all of these cool looking rocks around this gate. This is so much bigger than me; wow! Really? Well sort of, but some might say that it is I that is the larger than all that I am able to sur-veil. Who cares? It's pretty much set in stone anyway. This stone, however, may be simply metaphorical stone, as opposed to the tactile variety to which I am related.
Reviews
No reviews yet.