rewound

…and the clicking begins.
Syncopation. Analog sound with digital responses.
Chances passed.
A deck of cards and two dice. One die having the number three up while the other number 8. Four of hearts lays on top of the deck and a fly meanders through the room.
Sunlight casting aside doubts and fears. Letters and numbers filing themselves into the most logical order for us humans to play with.
The last martini made in a glass that shattered.
Narratives being played out across space and time,
Only with different characters.
Borges’ Library of Babel is a metaphor, not some form of foreshadowing.
Arms taken up for mock battle.
Protective gear stripped to a minimum,
as all the weapons are padded.
Ruby teardrop earrings, like two delicate drips of blood.
A forgotten phrase.
Sincerity from a mountain top, slight breeze.
Leaves dancing gently to the ground.
The battle begins as the dice are rolled again.
Expanding visions with fuzzy borders.
Krshna must fight.
As do we all.
You and I.

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