On the shoulders of a giant…

shadow.  I see how hard it is for you now.  Trapped in I.. You see nothing passed this.  How sad.  You carry the world right here, below my feet, but that world never really gets outside of you does it, never exists outside of the length of your sight.  As I stand on your back I begin to believe it may be the most solid thing I have ever felt.  Have you no mind to escape?  Trapped in there.  Do you want to come out?  Your silence is deafening when I look into your eyes.  Emptiness, cold, solid, there is no way to touch the heart inside of you.  So attached to everything unreal.  The base of you stuck to a plane only existing in your mind.  The things you touch, have you no sense to know the nonexistence, the utter faith it takes to attach to  them?  Can you not reverse that and have faith in that which truly empowers you?  It is all in reverse for you.  That’s how you get away with all this now isn’t it?  Your brain is making moves, the pawns, attached to strings at your hands, silently weaving every catastrophe to fit your game.  It is all a game.  I wonder if you would feel the same if all was reversed against your favor.  But that really isn’t a solution now is it?  That is why we’re here.  But the currency means nothing, we all know that, so its people you really own and what is each pawn to you anyway?  And why me, why me?  How long have you owned me for how…it was your hands…that put me down in that well, I remember it so clearly now, it was your hands that created all that I thought I was, but once again, why me?   That is always the question and it has always been the wrong question, yet the question you have always wanted us to ask.  The silence is deafening.  You move your hand once again.  The game is never out of your mind is it?  All the pieces would crumble if you thought like this wouldn’t they?  I hear everything now though.  Every movement, the stars, their fragmented lights, it is so loud now and each movement you make, shakes me to my core as the earth cries a little more with each movement of your hand.  You really don’t feel that?  What could possibly motivate one if…all, was…a..game?  I fall from great heights and I keep falling but I don’t even have the ability to see as the stars are flowing through me and your voice reaches out for me but I can’t hear it anymore, and I can’t hear it because now I know what you really are and now I know what I really am and your words have no meaning because where I am going is beyond words.  The stars continue flowing through me in my free fall energizing each cell of my body with life, pure life, existing outside of all you control.  Your voice moans, but a moan is all I can hear.  Your game is now speaking back to you shouting from it’s encased plastic, shouting from non- existence, shouting life and love, the language you cannot understand, the language that is slowly cutting the strings, loosening your grip, feeling nothing but the loss of your control.  As each star enters me, there is a loud pulse that travels to the ends of the universe, the pulse that begins to shake the foundations of your chessboard, mocking the game you call your life

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