孤島日誌

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汪洋的世界中,我們每個人都是座孤島

星期五, 3月 27, 2015

Leviathan

Walking into ever-morphing scenes of this delirious impetus, it is one of the ones that constitutes this colossus.

One gains its awareness from some, some gains from the other, the other from the lost linking of the origin.

It, as one of the ones that constitutes this, enjoys the dejecting spark of awakening, then wades into the current. Again, and again, and again. Washed offshore.

Relentless current deluges one of the ones. The dimming sparkle brimmed-over loses its hope once more. It hears the roaming sound of the cities, frightened.

Cities hustle, cities bustle, into sinews of that creature, the one that one of the ones constitutes. It sees.

That colossal collection of silhouettes lures behind, as humanoid skyline shapes into existence. It’s mawing, mawing at those one of the ones.

What drives this? One asks. And WHY! One screams. Albeit no one bothers to reply. It’s just those eaten ones who care. The uncanny truth of the insane sinews joining its alienating nature shaken away at large.

Mawing.

An unspoken turbulence is precipitating, hovering cities that harbors the momenta of nameless eons. No one knows if eons ever come.

Ligaments and sinews with this cannibalism keep their secrets in the light.

Cities hustle bustle the way it was, the way it has been. It’s downright the making of such being, that colossus ever under the eyes of one of the ones.

That night eons seemed nigh and within reach, a perfect exemplar of the very refined machine one of the ones constitutes. Then it’s lost again, washed away in the tenacious ripples of cities hustling, bustling. The name, Leviathan, resonates.

Leviathan. Leviathan.

Leviathan mawing, Leviathan devouring, thou art the ones that constitute this, thou art the ones that perpetuate this.

Leviathan teeming, Leviathan watering, thou art deliberating the cunningness of manipulation, thou art eroding the strength of thyself to the being of thy own life.

Leviathan will be there with its cannibalism, till the day one of the ones is all resolute to sift through every detail of its lost wits and come to the sense of consensus.

One may see, one may cry, beyond that no ones sight.

So, as one of the ones that constitutes this, it enjoys the dejecting spark of awakening, then wades into the current. Again, and again, and again. Washed offshore.

Cities hustle, cities bustle, the sound reverberates ever and loud no matter what.

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