L’arte e le sue sfaccettature
And then there was nothing.
And then there was me.
And then I was everything.
Alone in such a vast and expansive nothing, where even darkness is only a concept, I wept, and then there was tears. Shaped by the loneliness the tears bent and contorted in the void, until a shape was born.
And then there were shapes.
The shape was beautiful. The shape was me, and I was the shape.
The shape was symmetric, and then symmetry was born.
The shape was alive, and I knew then what it meant to be alive.
I kissed the shape, as it was the only expression of joy I knew, and joy was born. The shape morphed further, into what I know now as a beautiful female, and she kissed me.. and I wasn't alone.
Her eyes though, they were sad. She could be more, and we both knew it. As we parted ways she swore we'd see again, and she, like a flower wilting, decayed, and the wind blew her away, and the flowers, and the wind were born, and alone, I demanded light, and light was born, and everything was born.