day 1

We were all there at the same time of creation. How else do we explain creation? You, they, we, I, everyone, from beginning to present, we were all there. You too dreamed of there before. I certainly dreamt of it occasionally. I met you there, certainly I did. You were me and I was you. Then, once we established our identities, we stopped dreaming of there. Instead, we believe in now and here. Have you truly left there? You moved on, but we were confident that we would return.

Return we did. But there was nothing much to remember about. What use do we have of a rare glass container of sweets - the precious little that our parents gave us for being children? Now, you can get sweets in plastic bags off the shelves of a supermarket. As many as you like. As little as we like. How does it now feel to pick a stone out of millions along a beach? Just another stone. Another piece to an already complete puzzle.

One day, we wandered off the borders of our childhood. We then ceased to be You and I (us) as one. I have my own identity and you have yours. You went on your way and I went on mine.

Then, you and I met our beginnings. You fell into the pit, as bottomless as you could remember. I fell up into the sky, as infinite as the height of heavens. I cannot remember what happened in between - but I met you in between - for a split second. And the cycle repeats. I saw you again, a second later. Again, we met; you looked different, each second of our encounter. Perhaps, I used to remember how you looked. Now, you have become a stranger. And I am one too.

There are many ways of falling. And there are many ways to react during each encounter. In that one split second, you and I each had a reaction. Sometimes, I screamed at you. Sometimes, you laughed at me. But each scream and laughter was different. I cannot remember exactly the permutations of your expressions. Nor can you.

After all, we both cease to be ourselves. You are someone else. I am no more, no less of myself.

And yet, we repeat the same falling - so much so that we cannot tell who is falling up or down.

But who are we? It does not matter anymore. Someone else will repeat you and be you. I will always have another me to take over. It will serve no purpose to remember our identities - we simply do not exist. We shall, in another split second, do our little part to fade away, and perhaps, this falling may somehow cease to continue - as we finally touch ground and blow our brains apart.

Adrift in the universe, independent of human signs and signification, we can at least be one again - as if creation repeats again, and we find ourselves united as one. But that is a distant dream. And this is a wistful writing. As it is, when you count another second, the writing ceases to exist and you and I can continue dreaming and pretend that you and I never existed; just as this writing will soon be a distant memory - fades - and disappears over the horizon of our disappearance.