Timeless Birth

The waves of eternity crash against the rocky coast of forever. The rays of love and acceptance are setting, but still wash a warmth over all. Soon it will be replaced with the blue moon of peace and serenity.

A never ending cycle in bliss.

A soft whisper caresses the consciousness. “This is the point between two places. It is here you must decide to stay or go. To leave the peace and love of forever and go back into the turmoil of life.”

The whisper points attention to the obelisk defaced by a single black door.

The door inspires horror and fear.

The whisper no more uttered the sentence then the air around is felt, still questions swirl. Thoughts dip in and out. The potential to live again hums like a long forgotten desire.

Consciousness has come this far, it could travel no farther until answering yes or no. Here and now a decision was possible. In the timeless void counting second and minutes, days and years was meaningless.

Life was what once was. Maybe an empty candy wrapper is an apt description. A wrapper that has been licked clean. Once was. A memory gone, but for which the longing for has never disappeared.

At the start this was fine. A void in which to play. To make sandcastles on a beach that the surf never washed away, but eventually the remnants of chocolate disappeared from the wrapper and nothing could replace what the tongue craved and now Consciousness is here facing the pain of birth, of life, of wound and disappointment, all so that he can fill a need to feel the more again.

He answers yes.

His next thought is pain.

His eyes sting under bright light and his lungs burn, stuck painfully closed. Sticky gloves abrade his soft skin. His mouth opens to scream and can’t. He yearns to breath. To live. A concussive blow to his back. Nothing. Another and he sucks greedily at the cold air and sends the breath back out in a terrified scream. He is swaddled in warm blankets and laid under the softest most loving set of eyes he has ever known and all else about his existence is forgotten and time begins to tick once again.

 


 

obelisk

Photo courtesy of :

Sue Vincent’s  #writephoto

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Long Ago

The tour guide stops and sighs, “this is one of my favorite exhibits in the entire museum.

You’ll notice there’s an actual outside beyond that window. It’s not just a picture, this little girl’s bedroom overlooked Broadway and Sixty-Sixth street. If you listen carefully there is a soundtrack playing of long ago New York City. Do you hear the traffic and the sirens? My favorite part is coming up. There it is! A horn honk… and a crash… then two men arguing. That is an actual recording of a minor auto accident.

Oh, what a world to have lived in.

The toys and furniture are all made out of natural elements like wood and actual cotton and wool.”

“Was this child rich?” a little girl with purple hair interrupts.

“Not even.” In early 21st century all of these things could be made by hand, or even store bought. No 3D printing was even needed.”

 


 

#writephoto

Thursday photo prompt – Child – #writephoto