Crystal Skies

 

We’ve been cruising for time on end through these ever black skies. No day, no night, just dark void and the irregular pattern of star-shaped light. I can’t stop wondering what force lies beyond this colourless logic, and how many dimensions there are to this that I see. I’m not even sure we do move and in which direction, and how many directions there are. Darkness only, and stars, and us just sitting here guiding this doomed spaceship into nowhereness with the delusionary impression that there is a reason. Reason! The more we move into this numbing void, the less I trust it, reason. These empty skies full of matter that might as well not exist. For I can’t touch it, I can’t touch nothing but myself or the bare walls around me, moving walls, still walls, or walls still moving, moving through still walls of dark and bright. Matter all around me, empty matter, and I look at these stars, or, say, at that particular one right there, oh how it shines on me, bright and alive, but so far, does it really exist, and if so, how, why; and still?, or is it long gone. Huge inhumanly gigantic pieces of something, as old as all my ignorance, and still as real or fake as myself, me too, what else am I than a perishable piece of matter floating in space and knowing no more about itself than a star does of why it’s there, and where.