(no subject)
A life exists, just barely, in stroboscopic memories, spun backwards in dreams. Forward, the steps it takes in sync, half steps per Image, maybe less, maybe more, but always looking for a rhythm in the sputtering movements of a body. Lead or led, interminably the question persists. Sure of every footfall, it stumbles. The curb a quarter of an inch higher than remembered. A crash into the pavement is forfeited by the mad grasp for balance. It finds feet under it again, propelling. It realizes it may not be itself in that moment, but more Images flash in place of that semi-conscious thought. Again it moves, with more confidence. It knows the how high the curb breaks against the street. The certainty of its gait presumes unchecked, seemingly ready for the obstacles in its path. It knows the ground is flecked with inconsistencies. The feet adapt. The speed is unchecked, and the foot searches for aberrations, and changes position now that it knows nothing is flat; nothing is predictable.
The images persist unchecked.
An image arises, causes the life to shudder: An impostor undermining certainty. The life is unable to allow deviation. The impostor is true because the impostor spoke in action, like the step, like the curb. An understanding is suggested by The Images. It stumbles again, and life is thrown into chaos. The mad grasp for balance is forfeited by a simple suggestive Image that had nothing to do with movement. Then the appearances of others, floating quietly over the ground, comes from the perspective of the one that fell. It is remembered.
There are new Images.
Moments continue outside the (now failed) equilibrium. Others now dance in the realm of Gods. Their slights unseen, were never. The Images grant them omnipotence, omnipresence, and forgo their unseen foibles.
Life's steps sag in wonderment. The Images now ignoring the movement of something so simple and fallible as a body, flash faster. They argue for subservience under beings so perfect, or so clandestinely flawed. Eventually, the images move fast enough to become solid, and the body, not knowing where to direct its legs drops to its knees in submission to the the world manifested in a false step.
The images persist unchecked.
An image arises, causes the life to shudder: An impostor undermining certainty. The life is unable to allow deviation. The impostor is true because the impostor spoke in action, like the step, like the curb. An understanding is suggested by The Images. It stumbles again, and life is thrown into chaos. The mad grasp for balance is forfeited by a simple suggestive Image that had nothing to do with movement. Then the appearances of others, floating quietly over the ground, comes from the perspective of the one that fell. It is remembered.
There are new Images.
Moments continue outside the (now failed) equilibrium. Others now dance in the realm of Gods. Their slights unseen, were never. The Images grant them omnipotence, omnipresence, and forgo their unseen foibles.
Life's steps sag in wonderment. The Images now ignoring the movement of something so simple and fallible as a body, flash faster. They argue for subservience under beings so perfect, or so clandestinely flawed. Eventually, the images move fast enough to become solid, and the body, not knowing where to direct its legs drops to its knees in submission to the the world manifested in a false step.