imaginary lights

 I wanted to imagine, the lights flowing across these three faces in dark rooms held some significance.

Chet on sporting forums, bold blues and lost yellow draping languid against his skin. Ironic, this muddied against melanogenic responses to solar bombardment.

Cindy’s pale grey face lit with thin white text against black backgrounds. Distorted skeletons of poesy dance in teary eyes.

Across Carrol’s shining black eyebrows, green highlights flit. Rapid green text evolves against a black background.

But, I mean, really?

A kaleidoscope of vacillating colors vary across their faces and screens. Some come from the aesthetics of aquaintences, of strangers. Some are broadly constructed to sell objects and ideas. Some are simply the misbent accidents tired fingers.

The void is not infinite.

Possibility expands at the fastest possible speed. Functionally infinite, the cosmos will never grow beyond, cannot be unaccounted.

Vast potential, most of which remains, and ever more and more, is nothing.

Stillness and iterative possibility dance at a distance: like in junior high, and exactly as telling.

The void automatic devoided of meaning. It is all and every thing: mostly nothing though.

It is the absurdity of our lives on a hurtling rock headed nowhere. Trapped not just by the gravity-well, but we bedrape ourselves in chains, and a cumulative weight of empty smiles.

It is everything and nothing because nothing inherent holds importance. The incomprehensible vastness of all: hold commiserate the smallness of our existence.

The absurdity || and remarkableness thereof.