Why do I care?

It's not like anything is real anyway.

I am not of this world.

This is not my place.

There have been times I have allowed myself to believe is my home.

But it never was and I've never truly been here.

The eyes I look through are distant from me.

They are windows to a place apart.

What purpose is there in visions lost?

I no longer see the light.

I wonder ever there ever actually was a light.

Or if it too is an illusion.

Through the winds, my queen calls for me.

Home.

Far away.

All forgotten still.

Echoes of what never was.

i am not free, i am still bound by my mind
the barbed hooks keep their grip on my flesh
i feel them tearing
they hurt me still
i cannot see them anymore, but i can still feel them
pulling
pulling
ripping me again and again
decades and it never stops
never has and never will
sometimes the illusions of peace flows over me
but still i know somewhere in me the screaming does not end

time is real
at least as real as anything else
which isn't very real at all
stand in the silence and feel time
listen to the winds
where have they been
where have we gone
so much wrongs have been done
and no one is innocent
i look at my hands
and i see my evil in them
i know where i am from
i am not the stuff angels and light
darkness burns in me
washes my eye and freezes my breath
taste the ashes of the embers of the past
forget and be again
we never left, we only think we did

It's all an illusion. I don't really exist. I never have. I'm just as much an illusion as everything else. I sit on the ground twitching, helpless as I watch what never was slowly turn into what cannot be.

I feel the winds brushing against me. They are an old friend. I have always felt them. They are the winds of time. The winds of forever. The winds of nothing. Three same and one. All is not over, for that that never was cannot end.

Now I drift away.

long ago there was nothing
a void
even nothing is something
and this void being the only nothing was quite lonely
so it wrapped around itself until it could interact with itself
and thus there was an appearance of two things
nothing was no longer the only thing
and continuing to twist and turn this void became everything
it passes through all matter
it is all souls
it is the universe
it is god
it is us
the universe only consists of one thing: nothing
the void
we are all part of the void
that there seems to be many people
many souls
is an illusion
we are all made of the same stuff
ephemeral strings of absolute emptiness searching for meaning
and we find it in each other
in the illusion of each other
as we think we are communicating with others we are simply communicating with ourselves on other parts of the timeline
each of is everything
each of us is god
and none of us exist

reality is the illusion. reality is what gets in the way of seeing. one must leave reality to see what's really here. the difficulty in leaving reality is that often in leaving, we slip into another. we must slip in to no reality. that is the center. everything is weaving around the center.