mystical prose
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It didn’t happen with thunder or revelation.It happened in the space after the word was spoken—in the stillness where nothing should have moved,but something did. The universe didn’t echo you.It answered.Not in language, but in recognition—like a veil thinning, like an intelligence that had been awake far longer than you had been speaking. Nothing was…
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There is madness here—between the spaces where sound should sleep.A photogenic imagination plays its reels again, remembering everything that ever was, even the parts we tried to burn.The student has left the classroom.The chalk dust still floats where lessons once lived.They’ve become the teacher now—the one who stares at the sky and whispers, think the…
