dark glass morning hymn

Come whispers travelling faster than anything, saying: bad news.

(somewhere behind a dark glass the sage whispers something about the darkness in the light and the light in the darkness, sorry sage baby, on this side of the curtain it only comes in one color and that color is)

Bad

news.

It comes with awareness of how tiny you are, one island of I in a sea of space, and it comes with a hot breath of shame for the nothing you can do, for the nothing you did, for your complicity in letting this world be less than it could be. And it comes with a sad relief, for the bullet you dodged, it was not meant for you.

It comes with a knowledge of the bell that tolls, of the gun whose magazine stretches into infinity, there is a bullet with his name on it and her name on it and his name on it and her name on it... And her name on it... And yours.

Your

name

on

IT.

klik if you demand tedious explanations of every little thing.