Time is a mystery,
a waterfall gushing from nothing
a silent drop that consumes the rock of life,
a silent assassin that roams in our dreams
stroking our throats with an acidic knife,
dead bodies my old selves
foetuses my future ones,
what am I now?
A ghost feigning to be someone
a reflection on the scale of the snake
what is my direction?
I have none, I move in circles
hoping to ascend into a spiral
someday, where do I come from?
My origin is a black hole, my destiny is dissolution, but now I am eternal.
Vertrose
A physics student passionate about everything. Photographer and cryptoartist at https://opensea.io/Vertrose, author of “The Red Ant” https://www.amazon.it/Red-A
