Between two Zeroes lies the distance
of random times and various lengths.
The complex map of twisted systems
that is designed to fill space.
All routes are leading to the Zeroes
but reaching them would not make sense.
They're watching closely like two mirrors
reflecting actions from both ends.
Across the vast and foggy universe
that leaves the travellers amazed
with generosity of choices,
so overwhelming for their brains.
And if the choice is right, the route is also adjusted
and speed is set to be just right.
And if it's wrong, then time starts running faster,
increasing velocity till it goes wild
and crushes against the rocky surface of Zero One,
then gets recycled in the loop of Zero Two.
Then the body parts are being stitched for fun
by a surgeon team who have no clue
about travellers next destination
or setting any specific goals.
They only monitor the operation
through spinning vortexes of the black holes,
and see them going round in circles
and searching for the remedy to heal wounds.
They are neither dead nor the immortals,
just lost in silver glow of the moon.
The children of that selfish universe
that lost fertility and killed itself
without thought and having no remorse.
It still progressed whilst being dead.
Noticed by few angelic creatures,
Its virgin beauty was instantly preserved,
saved on a hard drive with new features
added, reprogrammed, and sent into a sleep mode.
They are not responsible for the descendants
but focus mainly on life itself.
The worlds are seen through special lenses,
assistance given if a request is raised for help.
The angels can't be visible in purple clouds
but their voices are polite and clear.
Respond to them, no need to shout.
You may be heard within a year
or two, these are the deadlines.
Depends on how close to the Zeroes you are.
They are more reliable then your careless mother
and will prevent you from travelling too far.
адреса: https://www.poetryclub.com.ua/getpoem.php?id=860255
Рубрика: Философская лирика
дата надходження 04.01.2020
автор: PersephoneNeit