As everything folds convolute and turns in on itself, the universe shrinks and glass breaks. The streetlights bend like matrix spoons and our bodies lay unconscious, with brains simply unable to shut off.
There were lightning sparks in those Icelandic volcano clouds. A balancing phenomenon. An electric-charged storm of energy carrying on within the cloud. This is different. Now, I'm thinking about oil spills. The ocean lit aflame. Liquid black hissing out of a pipe and mercilessly spreading itself. A slave of physics. Blanket of death. Maybe it cries as it swims. Wanting only to return to it's dark womb. Never asking to poison the blue, it was simply the victim of a supply and demand scheme insistent on perpetuating the sterotype that man is a parasitic doofus stumbling around Earth. The falling black snowflakes on the other hand, are apparently good for the algae in the saltwater, something about iron deposits.
Lighter things.
Like a dog that plays with a kid. A birth where blood pours forth a silver glowing child. A girl taking photographs of herself in a beautiful city that makes her look like a decoration. What about the man who created a beautiful song from such an ugly demonstration of the probabilities? His strength to continue could be filed under lighter things. Just as a friendship forming somewhere in that black tar mess might end up lifting spirits. Enough lifted spirits becoming the change. Reaching for something.
Float through the adversity and juxtapose a smile with the scenery. The best that we are struggles to move on, the best that we are admires the struggle. A helping hand. A destination. A journey spent awake because the surroundings were too damn splendid to ignore with shut eyes.
Hope is a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Hope is the feeling that, what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best. Definition courtesy of Wikipedia.
