Revolutionize Reality (holdxonxtoxme) wrote in the_ideal,
Revolutionize Reality
holdxonxtoxme
the_ideal

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Outline.




Imprisoned by objectivity,
Sat a man.
A city block; isolated.
Grey towers and looming structures.
Fatalities amongst the seedless
Doomed to remain,
Restrained by invisible fortifications.
He paces.
To and fro, back and forth.
Hurrying towards inevitability.
Impatient for eternity.
The merging of day and night.
Indistinct.
The rising of a sun.

Across the street, another man sits.
A mirror image of the last.
Unaware of contact, he too paces.
A city block, the same as the last,
Forbidden convergence.
Structure upon structure,
Endless to the eye.
The setting of a sun.

Between the two men, a paved street.
Three torches lay within the block limit.
The first torch is guarded by a woman,
Silver in appearance.
A halo in her hands.
The second torch is guarded by a child,
Golden in appearance.
A sphere in her hands.
The third torch is empty.
Seemingly unguarded, the torch is dim.
Vines etched.
Filth.

Shorelines brimmed against the vast city,
Strains of sand.
A castle lit with fragmented light,
The horse with a broken leg.
Subordinate.

The first torch is lit.
Eyes of dampened glass,
The woman presses her hands against the invisible cage.
March.
He moves for her.
Motivations for a ghost.




Across the street,
The golden child walks with the man.
Vision lost, insecurity.
She paces alongside him,
Soft currents of language drift from her tongue.
Deaf and mute, he is.
Functional only to himself.

The child and woman meet.
Universal distractions.
Of the left, and of the right.
Which would hold the empty torch?
Collision, said the child.
The woman agreed.
Universal extensions.

Neither man would embrace glory,
And both would share similar fates.

The horse with a broken leg.

The empty torch.

And they pace.
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