A body breaks. It ages and grows old. What was once fresh becomes dull; what was once smooth destined to become worn and beyond repair. Beauty is enticing, and yet it’s nothing compared to a dream. A moment of pleasure makes a heart beat faster, but a vision will give you wings. Nude and dripping with sweat, a body ignites the senses, but the search for meaning is to be found in the stars. We are all children, and mother is where the answers lie. So night after night we search. We create to replicate the birth that gave us everything. From string theory to the multiverse. From love on the snowy streets of your hometown to silent breakdowns witnessed by no one. These atoms we occupy; this universe that races towards an end that will be seen not even by God. The death of all is what we want yet it will never be grasped. The mysteries of a kiss. The sadness of disappearing years and the fading of magic. But despite the troubles that come with our lives, there is a feeling that will never be lost. It lingers and hides. It shies from our gaze only to caress us as we sleep. We are everything and nothing. We live, and we die, and yet death is not the end, just as birth is not the beginning. This life can be cruel and hellish, but on the other side of the coin, there’s enough wonder left to raise the Titanic. All you have to do is try. If you could do anything, what would it be? If you could go back and immerse yourself in a long-gone embrace, whose arms would you wrap yourself in? If you could stop the clocks from ticking and fly high into the night sky, who would you lose yourself in while slipping through layers of space like the laws of gravity didn’t apply to you? Tell me all of your secrets. Tell me how it feels to crawl among the wreckage gasping for air that doesn’t exist. Tell me what it’s like to be someone who understands that there’s more to this life than pretending to be in control, for those who act as if they have it in hand are the ones to run from, which is why I’ve been running for so long. You’ve been running, too. I can tell.
Categories: Lucid
Author S. K. Nicholas 
Damn. You are good.
Thank you, Rachel. Your praise is heartwarming, and for that I thank you. I hope you are well today x
I love how you write, how you make me reflect and look hard at myself within your words.
Thank you! I’m honoured that my words do that to you. It makes me feel very privileged. I hope what you see is beautiful, as I’m sure it is x
Amazing, so beautiful. God Bless xxx
Thank you ever so much. Bless you, too x
These words will stay with me for sometime. You are beautiful, as a writer and as a person too, for viewing things to the pin point of a broken glass, for drowning in those dreams and for inspiring profound thoughts. I love your work. But more than that, I love the mind behind the creation of such work. To me, it’s art. x
I’m touched these words have affected you in such a way. You’ve made me smile quite stupidly- thank you. I am humble yet thrilled in light of your kindness- and I hope you have yourself a glorious day. You deserve it, my friend x
Realising that control is an illusion, is what gives us the beginnings of control, I think. Maybe we are running, but I always leave your blog having left something behind and having taken something with me. You are a really good writer.
I’m so pleased you think so, thank you. If my words move you even in the slightest of ways, then I will have achieved something, and that is glorious. I hope you are well, my friend, and that today is a good one x
Right back at you. x
So true and I’ll answer this when I finally done pretending to be in control of a world that controls us, beautiful piece x
It takes but a single step, and yet it’ll be the biggest step you’ll ever take. Thank you x
Oh my God! I haven’t read anything by anyone for the last couple of days and here you are…KILLING IT! 💜
Thank you my dear Nathalie. I am honoured by your words, and your purple heart, too 🙂 X