Kaizen

It always starts with the void. I'd watch my body, my room simply collapse into one infinitely small point, leaving me floating in whatever sort of blackened plane. All I could feel was this vessel that contained me there, trapped me there. Cold, lifeless. Stuck in the eternal stretch of time flowing ever so slowly.

Eventually, finally really, something reminds me I'm still alive. Last night it was my vessel crashing firmly into the ground of some sort of polygon-riddled landscape. Triangles, kites, all the thinga-grams, you name it. From the sparkling mountains to the jagged hills, rivers flowed fragmented with floating sharp particles breaking across its surface like shards of glass. Everything plastered with these mosaic, colourful shapes. All except my stark black vessel.

Then I would see her.

I didn't know who she was. I didn't know what she was.

Yet I always feel such a calling to her.

She always takes off. I always give chase, no idea why. It just feels right. We stopped on top of a hill, disappearing each time I neared, the mouse slipping away from the frustrated cat. Round all the boulders, Over the gaping fissures, sidling through the thinnest of cracks. Inching closer, and closer, and closer, I'd never notice the sky turning red. The landscape undulating as the shapes distort, bend, smooth, crack. The red sea would darken into a black, its colour bleeding into the shapes beneath it, the lines defining each shape taking on the bloody vibrance the sky once had.

Finally
I succeeded. I caught up. I cornered her. The feeling would overwhelm me both with excitement, or was it fear, my shaking hands couldn't tell once they begun to reach out,

Yet it didn't matter
It never matters

The alarm pulled me back. It's time to get ready.