T.W.C. The world contracting. No; more imploding. Not just the world but the universe; existence. The Bang reached it's zenith and now it's outer most tendrils are reaching back toward us faster than a speeding locomotive. Light years away, light years ago, and now we have the technology to see far enough ahead of us to look far enough into the past and witness our own demise taking a heading back towards us. We will not see the end, we will not exist for long enough. The furthermost fingertips will unsettle our apple cart long before the wave crashes against out shores but we watch it come. There is no solace in knowing. Stepping outside of yourself, even for one solitary moment, affords you the greatest insight into your absence of self. It requires a greater distillation of your subconscious, a greater concentration of a profound sense of your place within the society that you live as part of and apart from. Something dark this way comes but it is not the night that is to be feared. To sit within the movie theatre, shrouded by darkness, alone, sitting within the throng, the torch of the screen a beacon for enraptured glistening eyes that can not see. Will not see. #life folding back in on itself. God has exhaled and must now draw a breath.
