.
.
Seated right between the entire world,There it was...
Oblivious to its surroundings.
Ever evolving,
Ever changing like all others.
Yet somehow invisible to all...
Maintaining its sanctity.
That was its life...
That was its destiny.
Visitors would visit and leave...
They would always leave it untouched
Unstirred by the winds
Unscathed by the storms...
She was its bridge
Its only contact to the living...
To the other side...
To the reality (as we believe).
She had touched its soil...
Felt its waters,
Inhaled its air,
Consumed it bit by bit....
The masochistic fool was in love....
In love with a bridge,
A feeble connection to the lie outside,
The lie called reality...
Still unaware of its truth,
Unknown to its own condition.
It was an island afterall,
Destined to stay between everyone yet away from ‘em. . . . .
.
.
