LIGHTS OUT

It sort of starts as an ambush,engulfs you as a whole, leaving you submerged in the abyss of its flaming grandeur. The endgame is not just the object, its the possibility of possessing something deemed to be ephemeral,as illustrated in the epilogue of a fable or an excerpt of a ballad. As each moment passes in it's absence, the void self-cultivates into a yearning set ablaze. A violent coveting to at least catch a glimpse, to experience something akin to utopia, because as palpable as mental imagery can be, the real deal conquers all. Temporal contact even proves to be remedial, limitation period asides. There are stages. The early stages,when daisies are in bloom, is perceived as a fusion of lingering euphoria and restlessness. Susceptible to both participants. (Despite the stereotypes.) And then desperation ensues, wanting to uncover those layers, to break down the walls and bridge the gap. To engage, to bond.

Until one point when it all goes to hell.