It fizzes beneath the surface of my beliefs. Emerging every now and again, it entraps the inner guards and turns them into a dubious pile of clutter.
In a vacuum-like reality, thoughts get scattered by powerful currents. A place anyone visits on one’s own: reluctant, we stand at the doorstep wishing there would be a welcome, a bare greeting, by another soul.
The hall of mirrors sits, flickering eyelids in mute grandeur. She knows no vice bridges a solitary strip of path, and no ignorance hides the doomsday away from percolating scope of self-reflection.
But we choose to keep trying, lost in the sound of piercing barks aimed at the heavens.