Exploring a cabinet of curiosities, each fragment expecting to be of startling mirabilia, this pandemic holds that share of memories.
Desires stage intention. Intentions game-plan a direction. Leading to a distracting consequence, an ill product demanding attention other than the memory making journey. Each fraction of consequence transmogrifying the very nature of desire, coercing a harras of illusions. Tends tiresome.
The spotlight falls on consequence, a mere contingency of desires and ends in negotiating where to bury it. It can’t be helped where we breathe in three clocks – rich memories, currently everything that is perceived, understood and remembered and the vivid imagination of tomorrow.
Watching a vision crumble down because of my own faults, consequently affecting everyone and everything around. Causing an unduly distress to my friends and family due to my incompetency. Even my ligaments gave way for a seeming ephemeral physical recovery.
The axiom says “There is always light at the end of the tunnel” and I sincerely hope that it’s not an incoming train.