Lover of the Past

There is suddenly a blast ... ! The bubble once existed but now it just cannot last. The place of your origin has been forever lost and all you are left now is the nothing of the present the something of the future and the much of the past. Then you decide to chant chant to go against the little wave that breaks right at the edge of the pain-threshold but is it this chant produced by the very substance that you torments?
Is the very chant part of the success that is here and that makes you be here and hear the sounds that other passenger just can't? Is it your fault that passengers are idealized and rushed to the stage when their exams have not been passed or forwarded to them at least? The expectation for it to crumble and fall when it is great and majestic must be the haunting secret of your success. Has the demon taken over you and all you can think is how to muse them into your smile amuse them for a little while and then abuse the small signs on their face to make them not last against the enduring threat-thoughts of your past?
If the question mark dears to breathe then the exclamation drowns in the water like a fish born with lungs .. it is not made to breathe as such... and that is what my writing is made of... The great rises and falls of life.. Zoe as called in Greek...
Remember my reader there is always that phenomenon called TiDE.
But the miracle of the place where nothing comes and nothing goes must be something not to be desired for where is the fun or the hygiene... in that?