Life comes in labels. Not just the people you see around you, the creatures and the plants in the forests you take for granted, but also in the thoughts you have in your head. You don't classify them because they never leave your head. But some people classify them. The Real thoughts, they are based in reality, the closest you get to true. The Surreal are like the Real, only altered, made vague and twisted. The Unreal are straight from imagination, imagined realities.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Glass Dreams
"I sing the song of aeons," he muses to me. "My brothers looked upon the world and decided, no, demanded that it would be shaped by our whim. We turn reality to sand, to mold in our hands with the water of our voice, to purify with the fires of language." He turns back to the war raging in open, empty space behind him. "We build our dreams out of glass," he sighs, "And expect others not to break them."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)