Miasma

What is it about going back? What is the allure of returning? Something out of nothing… for eternity.

Home, the place whence your memories originate, before the beginning.

Something out of nothing. Life gives rise to life. A sentient being suffers then dies. The womb incubates evil.

Can you please stop? I want to find myself. I want this ephemeral life to mean something. Can you please let me go back to make it right? Are our wails wasted in this isolated system?

A splatter on the canvas of creation observes itself and wonders, “what am I?”

 

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