Mental Rule
Eyes close.
When, I cannot be sure. But they sealed at will− not that I would have stopped them. The world grew still, yet, I am light. I feel its flight and shudder, every blinding rotation of its axis.
It speeds.
And I spin wildly in my trance, caught beneath the black sea of eyelids.
My body seems distant.
This
Is darkness. Perhaps night? Perhaps a cave?
Ah, exotic.
Shades of the unclear stir me, in ways, more than Earth itself stirs.
Black− though I do not feel empty, oh no
I have found space. Room
To breathe. Room
to feel. Room
To exist. I want to exist.
In this lidded night I am the cosmos. If the darkness should erupt, with fireworks, a comet, a plunging spacecraft, it would mean little. They too will fizzle, like beams long-extinguished from a deserted lighthouse.
I am infinite.
Why, why would I ever leave my night?