SHADOWS

How is it that all strive into turning their surrounding into shadows of possibles, mere veils slowly undulating through a constant weaving within the billions of life strands now but links to other raison d'être, other existential worlds? We all look up at that so called 'starry sky', secured into the folds of a gravity force which 'holds' us all down on this earth's crust;

Now, to all, that crust seems to hold so much inertia, that we are all herded into the abysses of constant variations without ever giving thought that the whole of one self is but an aggregate of disparate variants, each alive within it's own conscience, aura of life, while floating into that sea of blood which is the one self, barely contained within the stretchings of a tidal skin, yes tidal for it keeps shedding layers after layers, forever lost to environmental abrasion;

Each day, the one self pays a duty, a fee for passage, leaving a sprinkle of skin particles, each a world in itself, a kind of space ship