idea| Celebrating Her Death

The start of the end, I thought. Like a flowering tree in a storm I was; the flowers fell and I was unable to express my feeling. I vomited it. I squeezed my eyes. Rivers gushed out, watering my dry and solid soul. A dancing music from within woke up the sad rhythm of my symphony. It saturated the foggy atmosphere of the room, where a vivid colony of ants went on bursting tears and hallucinating; mourning the loss of the Queen.

I looked at her for an eternal moment. She was as yellow as a sunset scene, very pale like an autumn leaf, and very barren, except for the gloomy and childish smile I noticed on her face. It was full of meaning and wisdom. It shocked the surrounding community and shocked me, like a thunderbolt, and stole the feeling of existence from my soul. It drowned me in the world which was created in my imagination, an illegitimate world - a dream in which humans live in a dream; a dream within a dream.

A moment later I was more dead than her. I almost touched, smelled, saw, heard, and tasted nothingness. It brought truth to my corpse. A blurred truth; the untouched, un-smelled, unseen, unheard and tastless one. The Soul; the end of the beginning. I was wrong.

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