The origin of my existence

Clear drops of water, hanging from the edge of the balkony floor above. Struggling not to fall. Constantly losing the battle as new drops emerge from above.

Cool air sweeping in through the opened balcony door. Quick! Must inhale! Fill my lungs! It carries with it a good smell of spices and food cooking. Its' curiosity and playfullness will be its' doom. Must inhale and consume. It is now nothing. Same as me.

Ending vision. Blocking sound. Enjoying the fullness of my lungs.

I am wind now. Fresh and strong. I am water, pooring from the sky. I lose my grip over and over, falling. Light in many shades of gray penetrating my origin and existence. Moods of light. Light, wind and water. Without them, I am nothing. I am what they are. I consume them all for my own satisfaction. Without regret or remorse I am soaring through the air being everything there is. I am being what I am. I cannot apologize for that.

I am clearly not alone anymore. There are many of us. Many drops of water falling. Many winds of forgetfullness, caressing the old outside walls. Giving the loose flags of paint a short, vibrating moment in life. Many rays of light penetrating darkness and obscurity. A multitude of grayish scales, none more self reliant than any other.

Wait! Something happens! Gray obsolves. Intense warmth forcing it's way through. Delightful! A composition! A composition, where I am a part. The spotlight on me. I create my own pixel. My own dot of paint on existence. I can be dark. Nothing. Or I can be the wind forcing myself in through an opening in the wall, pushing curtains aside, making them dance; throwing up particles of dust in the air to let the light shine through them. Yes! I am the innocent, playful wind now. Parts of me consumed by that bitter old man on the couch. But I'm full of life and intensity. Creating a forceful streak of dust particles hastily seeking protection from the sunlight stalking them through the window. But quick! Some other being of nothingness are again pushing that gray fuss in front of the bright warmth. Must get out! Must stop it!

Bright light turns into grayish scales again, and again my existence has no meaning.

I am nothing, waiting for the next entrance of a fresh smell from outside that balcony door. When? Oh, when will it ever find me?

Originally posted by stocken
Clear drops of water, hanging from the edge of the balkony floor above. Struggling not to fall. Constantly losing the battle as new drops emerge from above.

Cool air sweeping in through the opened balcony door. Quick! Must inhale! Fill my lungs! It carries with it a good smell of spices and food cooking. Its' curiosity and playfullness will be its ...[text shortened]... trance of a fresh smell from outside that balcony door. When? Oh, when will it ever find me?

Hello!

Originally posted by AThousandYoung
Hello!

Hello. Are you also a drop of water? Are you wind?

My realisation is getting wider now. I can see how I exist. It's random chance. I know this. I created myself. I threw the dice. I lost. Sweat perspirating from my forehead. Sticky clothes molesting my skin. Smoke, suffacating and thick. Can't breath. Are you a drop of water? Swallows.

The question lingering in the back of my existence. Why did I do it? Why did I throw the dice? Before that moment I wasn't aware. Now, everyone is watching me from the corner of their eyes. Clearly judging me. Doubt. Skepticism. Dislike. They're all whispering amongst themselves. I know the words only to well. I used to be one of them. Someone who couldn't perform on my own. Someone who had to rely on the group for everything. Now, as the outsider I see them; me, for what is. They haven't come into existence yet. They're intergalactic noise. Gray matter. Undefined and unimportant. Why do I care so much? Once the wind grabs them, they'll come to life and things will be different. I just need to wait. Wait and be patient. If I'm lucky, one of them will be the fresh wind passing through my window, and I can inhale again. Inhale something other than the taunting smoke whirling around my head; reminding me of my exposed position.

Are you a drop of water? Or, are you liquor and smoke? It's all fine by me. One will bring life to me, and the other will make life durable. I'm slowly dying anyway. Until the next dice is thrown. Tired now. Need to sleep. Need to fade.

Stop looking! 😠

Originally posted by Bosse de Nage
He stands revealed as the Clueless Man.

Oh, do be quiet. You're just a figment of Stocken's imagination. Mind you, so am I. Oooo oo oo!!! Me, you, Stocken, whatever - could you improve the grammar around here please? I mean, I know we can (maybe I can? or you can? or we can? I don't know, this must drive schizophrenics crazy (crazier?)) - I'm getting better at it, so I know we can do it.....

Originally posted by scottishinnz
You're just a figment of Stocken's imagination. Mind you, so am I.

I knew it!!! 😀 Ha! Now all I have to do is figure out why I can't remember having written that.

(What was that about bad grammar, by the way? Is there such a thing, even, as bad grammar? Isn't all grammar good? Am I grammar? Am I in fact not thoughts and water and wind, but grammar? Hmmmm...)

Originally posted by stocken
I knew it!!! 😀 Ha! Now all I have to do is figure out why I can't remember having written that.

(What was that about bad grammar, by the way? Is there such a thing, even, as bad grammar? Isn't all grammar good? Am I grammar? Am I in fact not thoughts and water and wind, but grammar? Hmmmm...)

That's because I erased it from your memory.

(I created grammar, and to allow for free will, I had to create both good and bad grammar. People can choose freely between them, but they will be punished severely if they use bad grammar.)

Originally posted by Nordlys
That's because I erased it from your memory.

Oh no. This is bad. I've created everything that is, and everything that is can affect me? Oooooo... Closing my eyes. Wishing everyone away. Opening eyes.

Aaaaah... That's better. 😏

Originally posted by stocken
Oh no. This is bad. I've created everything that is, and everything that is can affect me? Oooooo... Closing my eyes. Wishing everyone away. Opening eyes.

Aaaaah... That's better. 😏

Little does he realise that without his creations he himself ceases to exist ...

Originally posted by stocken
Hello. Are you also a drop of water? Are you wind?

My realisation is getting wider now. I can see how I exist. It's random chance. I know this. I created myself. I threw the dice. I lost. Sweat perspirating from my forehead. Sticky clothes molesting my skin. Smoke, suffacating and thick. Can't breath. Are you a drop of water? Swallows.

The question lin ...[text shortened]... the next dice is thrown. Tired now. Need to sleep. Need to fade.

Stop looking! 😠

Well, I made wind. Does that make a difference?

Marijuana is good.

Originally posted by FreakyKBH
Marijuana is good.

Is good? Is god? Go...

For the momentarily happiness sweet smell will bring. For the opportunity happiness promote. For life and prosperity on a spiritual plane. The sense of completeness embrace your heart. Caressing it. Playfully tossing about.

Tingling sensation through feathered air, into the warmth of loving glow.

My mind expanding in time and space, encapsulating every face. Kissing the bum and licking the foam. No disgust until realisation come.

No marijuana needed. No such requirement exist for my poetry to persist. I'm floating on the toxic fumes of industrial waste, indoctrinated by the legacy of foul taste.

Seeking refuge in cyberpoetry. Cyberpoetry defining my existence. My existence defining me. It's excellence in its own right. Excellent by virtue of its own might.