A Letter Long Overdue (Speculative Experiment)

This prose piece I wrote to be a letter that could be interpreted as a letter to a loved one, a family member, someone saying goodbye, really it is open to the reader to see how they would take the letter. Also, I was just getting some emotions out.

It’s definitively a work in progress…

Enjoy!

To …

I am sorry it may have taken me some time to compose this. Time has a funny way of slipping through our fingers when we attempt to contemplate great immensities that make our thoughts as seem like mere objects; a vicarious causality in which we collide as mere caricatures of ourselves never truly touching what we were meant to be.

Rich menageries of color exploded with a chaos that was new and unbridled filling the world with unique spectrums of radiant light. It was easy to take these phenomenon for granted, as they boiled over in a vat of ancient primordial stars, countless to imagine across the dead aeons as they glowed in a glimmering profundity, terrible and unrelenting. Still, while the ages fell away, I had never felt such intensities churning inside so violently until the day you left.

I had been afraid, but you were always there and I took you for granted, just as those primordial stars that always would be there so to do I imagine you would be. When the lights went out the only one left of all the stars, only one glowed the brightest, a yellow neutron star whose hypnotic gaseous cloud, echoed that of a sycophantic nightmare born of an ancient evil. It had always been lurking in the void, flickering in the depths of an angled darkness away from all realms of veritable thought, but on that day its light seemed to grow ever closer.

I am sorry it may have taken me some time to compose this, but I am truly afraid. Time has all but slipped through my fingers and I wish I could attempt to contemplate great immensities that make our thoughts as seem like mere objects; a vicarious causality in which we collide as mere caricatures of ourselves never truly touching what we were meant to be.

Yrs,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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