sign on the door
Years ago I was about to open a door. On it was a photo of a doctored street sign. It read DE END. There are some crossroads that we come to that have the same DE(AD )END message plastered to them and at each of these points we are faced with an option. What of it? What of India? What of true love? What of liars? What of drunkards? What of lost souls? What of rumors? I am not a part of your lost reality. I am strong. What choice do you make? The act of questioning creates a current to synapse. A judgement creates a transformational manifold. Within it a wormhole divined by options. Ever present to divided ideas. The inner space is the outer space. DE END.