words

some words came to me in a dream, and i wrote them down in a book beside my bed.

when i awoke, i read what i had written, and laughed, for it seemed folly.

some days later, i read what i had written, and pondered, for it seemed passing wise, as if they were the words of someone greater than i.

still later, i read the words yet again, and felt that neither was true. rather, i felt that in truth i had never awakened, but was in fact still dreaming.

since that day i have continued to write down the words in hope that i might one day awaken. however, i suspect that the key to that awakening lies somewhere that words cannot reach.

0 Comments

once there was a lonely, friendless man who talked to a god that never answered.




one day, he heard a voice speak to him from inside a cloud.





how did he know that it was not the devil, or simply the voice of madness?




if it were the devil or the voice of madness, would it tell him to speak to another soul, and to share his meager spark with another in the great darkness?




does it matter?