A Fantasy with the Quality of Reality

I feel called to do what I don’t yet know what to do, yet the calling remains. It’s crepuscular.

I feel how close time is coming to me, what time actually may consist and how close it is coming.

I know I live in the most powerful nation on earth, at least I think I know, yet all I see are crumbs left over on the breakfast table. The top of the bagel is burnt.

Soon, how soon soon will be? I don’t know but I like the sound of soon, knowing it’s coming.

X equals The Tipping Point and Y has certain impermeable boundaries.

Perhaps I’ll never know the real meaning of my calling and will instead wander aimlessly around a giant lake made of pyramids, searching for magic carpets and Port-a-Potties left behind by people who attended Burning Man.

It’s possible that the world is ruled by short-haired bumblebees and that Amazon owns everything behind the scenes, though it’s also possible that Amazon is nothing more than a watery figment of human imagination that’s in possession of a list of email addresses and passwords accessible only to the elite liberal ruling class…

Still, birds chirp but in no particular order. Listening to birds chirp I forsake politics, understanding it as just another form of judgement, having seen pictures on TV of the Brazilian guy climbing up prison walls to escape and then being captured in Pennsylvania a day or two after his escape. I know he once stabbed his girlfriend to death in Brazil, but still I feel sorry for him.