Kto Wie Returns

Everything happens for a reason. Maybe we just don't find out precisely what that is. The clocks tick, but is it to control us, to guide us, to just show us where we are, what state we are in? Kto wie. I love the uncertainty of life outside the cage. Perhaps not forever, and freedom is a state of mind and it can easily be lost and maybe never recovered again. Hold on to it, if you think you have it. Perception. All these artforms, swimming through the brain, vying for attention. Oh, I love the struggle. How I love the blurry image of it all.

I want to comb my way through the mess. To find you. To hold a hand that matters, not just a hand. Not just any hand, you hear. There are so many hands, all reaching, all pulling at the clothes of, all trying to pull us down, underneath the ground, to where darkness festers. Oh, through the crowd, golden light surrounds her. Unfathomably, it still creeps into the mind. Let it go and perhaps it could locate us. I don't know, I am not sure you do, I reckon maybe nobody does. So, whatever will be, will be. Then.