It flashes white.
A symposium of life lived.
You barely see it pass.
Here. Then not.
A collection you think.
Something done,
something accomplished.
Existentialist questions haunt.
What did it mean?
Accomplished by whom?
With what intent?
Was I special?
Was I good?
Was I a success?
What constitutes I?
Amalgams of not wrong, not right?
Fool and devil or
Hierophant and Hermit number 9?
All things at once.
Expressed in ornate spectral variants.
Penning personal canon.
Stories heard, stories emulated.
Endings chosen.
Your character is your character.
Self judgments becomes death drive.
Identities calcify engorged with pride and shame.
Heavy with handcrafted karma.
All of it ignoring a game.
A dodge, a parry, a feint.
High masonry implemented.
Crocodile moats filled.
Avoidance, suffering…
Things follow.
Flow stops.
Canon erosion, myth fades, the real enters.
Surrender in wait.
Death.
Rebirth.
It flashes white.
