The Unseen

The light in the darkness (Commission) by Nikulina-Helena

https://www.deviantart.com/nikulina-helena/art/The-light-in-the-darkness-Commission-650872142

https://www.deviantart.com/nikulina-helena

Thank You Nikulina-Helena for letting me use your artwork for my little project

Thank You Very Much

 

The Unseen

 

I hear voices in the distance, growing louder,

louder and louder until they were deafening.

They recede slowly, until the quiet unseen enveloped everything again.

They came from everywhere, disappear nowhere.

 

Having faith, I move, I eat, I rest in the unseen.

Only the feeling of walking is felt, where and how, no movement sensed.

I walk believing worlds blossom around me.

Unimaginable, untattered wondrous beings weaving about in the unseen.

 

Expecting nothing, wanting nothing,

I move, stay, all thoughts aimless and irrelevant.

In the abyss where I forget myself, I see nothing,

nothing sees me.

 

Moving through the abyss, the unseen,

the vast dessert of emptiness,

I find myself wander in thoughts and body.

Searching, wandering aimlessly through leagues of emptiness.

 

In nothingness, I found abundance.

Nothing anchored, nothing solid,

But limitless possibilities.

 

I’ve forgotten how long I’ve wandered.

I remember much of the world before.

Sun so bright it roasted flesh.

Locomotives in an infinite dance upon scars of wood and steel and electric across the earth.

Flying hunks of plastic and metal crisscrossing on invisible lines.

 

I remember a flood of humanity thick and dense.

Coming in waves and waves from all direction.

Drowning, crushed by the sheer weight of it all.

Emotions, ideologies, and sheer humanity blending in a sea of hopelessness.

 

Wandering in the abyss of absence and nothingness,

a sense of warmth in unfeeling, a sense of calm in vacuum.

I have wander for an age, when a light appears.

A light in the distance.

 

Lights illuminate in intervals,

Bathing everything in bluish luminescent.

A hallway comes into being.

A hallway mundane and typical.

I stare at a rose and vine covered ceiling.

Twisting and growing towards the light of artificiality,

butterflies of sparkly light floats about.

A door solid and ancient appears by my side.

A door that look as if a push is all that seem needed.

My hand reaches out, feeling that coarse and weathered surface.

My palm flat against it, feeling it longingly.