/
Steely sky carries the day
away, but instead of colorburst splashing the horizon with a phantasmagoric
palette, it saturates the flow in the hourglass with increasing solemnity of
grayness. Peculiarly, more than in the grayness itself, the sense of a moribund
conquest of spatiotemporality is felt in the whiteness of the blossoming flora.
Stacks of feathery cushions
vibrate with the oversaturation of corrosion. Resisting the gluishness piling
them in a guise of a mimicry of softness, the bondage is being negated as they
separate, fluffing into diverse directions seemingly articulating a dispersal
of cohesion.
During the fluffy flow
across the atmospheric vastness, the protean, malleable character provides them
with a sense of orientation. Neither subject to immaculate verbalization nor a
manifestation of bewilderment and/or insubstantiality is the newly arisen
bonding.
Sticky tendrils thirst for
their presence. Generously, they open up miniscule, octopuslike threads to
welcome the spore shower with undivided hospitability of the sleazy cohesive
tissue they miraculously generate.
Petal balls of the feathery
constitution now firmly anchored in the soft touch of the host. Germs of
opaqueness, germs of solace.
cocoons of vermin, pods of sprouts.
/ scattering : of that what spreads.
As the typical chromoscape
gives way to the somewhat quirky shades of descent and the scenery feels like
an epitome of a severe frown undeniably disagreeing with the angular moodiness
of seasons, density of the sticky formation is dissolving.
Evaporating, swarmed
petalflakes are gathering within a solidifying embrace of a cloud.
Giving back to the gaseous
surrounding, a steady outpour from those irrigating sources starts conversation
with thirsty cells of the universe.
spanning the orangepurple trajectory.
As the gloominess of the
site is devouring the flux in the hourglass and raindrops are diving through
atmospheric tubes, their weight indicates a transmutation only detectable in
the dusty touch with which they enfold sleepy branches.
As the veil starts its
enchanting mission and dustclouds fall all around, thereby disturbing the quiet
of constellations, the trees rebel:
once upon a time, there’ld
have been an alphabet. / and yet, only few could use it. / many developed
allergic reactions to particular letters. / scientific voices were raised. /
cure has been sought. / liquid energy they say can take care of it. / thus, it
was widely advertised. / new merchandise for sale. / come—buy and be well.
or, so somnambulist logic
would want one to believe.
noone said anything.
and yet, there is a message
to be gotten from such a mesmerizing linguistic situation :
wassyomessage, ha!
Meritocracy, yo misnomer is
plutocracy, yo moniker is technocracy, yo pseudonym is kleptocracy.
Where “how much” is confused
with “what” is no language.
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