Broken 2

 

The coin spins and lands, spins and lands; over and over and
is without end, we see what we see regardless of what is…good
bad indifferent all motions toward the same conclusion, we
build futures around what we *want* to see—a world that
exists purely for us—everyone else a guest within their self-contained
sphere bobbing rotating butting up against our own tiny cosmos.

6 billion bubbles of separate living thinking moving breathing all day
everyday people wanting watching breathless scared for the bubble to
break, to evaporate and lay bare the ridiculousness we call
living, we call our lives…not knowing their side of the coin is nothing
without my side, your side or his side…or our side which is no side at all.

What is “broken” but an ailing adjective describing a comparative state, a
this over that, a more rather than less…a line defined by the contrast where
two dissimilar areas meet and that line is purely within, purely chosen by
our thoughts actions circumstance we have defined; living within spheres
constructed continuously since birth…added to…remodeled…constricted.

No one tosses the idea of how many of the 6 billion bubbles know they
are separate/confined by their own thoughts…tightly controlled by what they allow
themselves to see feel think do…all moving with ragged motion toward an
end that they will not see, cannot see with no frame of reference to
notice how close we truly are…and how utterly different it might be.

Is being broken bad or is it the first step toward the destruction of
the separate bubble that forever has delayed awareness, derailed freedom
defined space such that it is always at arms length and kept us a million
miles away…a constant frequency humming in deaf ears…and never
quite what we see when we see what we want to see.

My broken may be less or more than your broken or the same as your fixed or
her annoyance or his joy but the point is that it is the nature of my bubble; defined by
me, built by me, maintained by me and always always always inhabited by me
regardless of the coin flip, irrespective of sad or happy, up or down, right or
wrong, in or out, black or white and that is the point…

…we need to know we live in bubbles in order to break our bubbles
and live in the open, or, forever bobbing rotating butting up against
our own tiny cosmos we will only ever ever ever be just this:

separate.

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