crossing

Being, alive and dead, has its space of matters and causes,
its meaning and identities, its fashion and fugacity,
allegorize a summa of touches, crossings, impacts,
intersections of random despotism and purpose,
of a permanent reincarnation of newborn,
a spontaneous micro bang,
extending in its directness and irreversibility,
a multiplicating reproduction of a recreating creationship.

Being all exists in parallel universes, in memories,
flashing dances and totem rituals,
on a mental and physical level.
We wander in a parallel universe of a universe of parellel universes,
changed with us, by us, altering inside us,
as a theory of penetration, occupation, establishment and imprint.
A blur tangency of a pale momentum,
less than a squint against the light,
but a sparkle of an ignition, to big bang!

I live now in dreams of my touched and imprinted,
They live in me, dreaming inside me,
An identity never repeats again,
escaping in a glorious chaos of an eternal vast.

Life is the complexity of myriad and perpetual universes and reverse.
We are crossing and creating.
We are producing our reproductionism,
adjectivizing versions of me, us, a new dirty parallel universe in tail.
We live in everything and nothing,
in our selfish and simultaneously and timeless sphere of being.

And every momentum I am God,
I am the creator and the creation.
I am, was and will be created, as long as I cross.
We all live in parallel universes.
We are the universe,
because of our efforts of understanding,
despite ourself.

(Book of misunderstanding, psalm of despiritualisation, verse 1)