Muthure's Place - Demons, Time and Second chances

Before the beginning and after the end,
Father Time did not exist.
The beginning was the end
And the end turned out to be the beginning;
Of something new.
Something unnamable.
For in a timeless vortex
Names prove irrelevant and purposeless.
The event was not in the past.
It is neither happening
Nor going to.
It is in a timeless sphere.
If you stand still you hear
The song of Silence
See godly Darkness
And feel the movement of Love and Tranquility.
In this unending abyss
Angels and demons coexist
Day and night seem to merge
Water and wind with no disparate difference
Good and evil essentially one.

Inevitably there was a fall.
An error.
One blunder in this near faultless realm.
The gates are closed
All accesses sealed
The fine line between in and out
Is suddenly magnified
And the difference is preposterously large.

The blinders fall to the ground
The bare truth like lead
A burden too heavy to bear.
Improvise-
Alter the truth.
Retreat-
Run away from the truth.
Ignore-
Disregard the truth.
Bury it until it fades into oblivion.
Teach the generations to come that there’s no truth
That it doesn’t exist.
Or make them fear it.

When dark sets in
And shadows are cast
Laughter becomes hollow
And conversation takes a life of its own.
Whispers carry clearly in the motionless air
And blackness reveals things otherwise veiled;
That under layers of intelligent foolishness
Falsified truths
Wicked morality
And tarnished purity,
Are our Thoughts searching,
Desperately, furiously, for a foothold
And the almost solid darkness provides none.

Demons need not look for ambiguity
In order to fool the (self-declared) intellectual.
They need only a solitary soul
One exploring the realm of “self-discovery”
And experimenting with independence.

The past and future point to the present
And because Time is concurrent,
All time is irredeemable.

The world is now in perpetual motion,
The song not to be heard.
Darkness conducive for only evil, thieves and witches.
Quietness confused for Peace,
Love phased out by Perversion.
Father Time -a ruthless dictator- controls everything.
The Present [the only compromise between Past and Future]
Remains forever unsatisfactory,
Time itself a worthless pit of nothingness.

The beginning was the end
And the end is just that
Preventing attempts at reparation for that one blunder,
Intolerant of second chances.
In a timeless vacuum lies the tapestry
Of the beautiful, imperfect patchwork
That forms the quilt that envelops us all.
We see nothing.
We feel nothing.
We cannot hear the playful whispers
Of the greatest story never told.

Joy Muthure