Maybe it was the black clouds of rain. Then again, I've seen blackness on the sunniest of days. But like a rapture, the meaning of the world suddenly vanished. The tall glass towers that mock me every day were drained of importance: just empty, hollow monuments for no reason. The flustered, frothing cars that eternally pass me by were suddenly going nowhere, like cockroaches scrambling blindly. The mounds and miles of concrete just useless rubble. What the fuck is this for again?
Has anyone really thought about where we're headed?
There's a Star Trek episode where Kirk is trapped in a space warp, fading in and out of the universe. I had that same sort of feeling, as if an alternate reality was breaking in, poking through the 'holy' veneer of our endeavors. I knew I was the only one seeing this. No mother with a stroller ever admits she leads her child astray. Yet as I watched you scurry to and fro doing your world shakin' and money makin', the sense of it was lost on me. Sort of like watching a man feverishly and expertly fit a new, improved engine in a car - right before it goes off a cliff.
Slowly I worked my way back into a cocoon of love, finding meaning in the simple acts of human kindness. But the black vision remains, haunting me and hounding me to be heard. I understand now why no one stops to smell the roses: they fear what they may find if they ever stop to look.
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