There was a place inside this knot of metal limbs from which he could see the entire manifold branching overhead; it made him feel that as small as he was, compared to this enormous metal monster, he was the soul in the machine, the essential component that allowed the whole system to work.

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Because I’m me, I get to feel the thunder,
and see how life expands inside a bloom.

Because I’m me I dare to touch the sunset,
and walk at ease under a silver moon.

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You can’t assert nothing is real while taking in reality through your senses.
Nothing is what you thought, nothing is permanent, nothing has fixed meaning, but everything is very much real, because this is what real is: whatever you perceive, think and feel at the time.

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Nothing goes and nothing comes of nothing
there is essence in the word of truth
we are small and meek into the vastness
of the worlds beyond the sights of youth.

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As if waiting for a sign, the clouds gathered over the horizon. Jal looked at them, and in his relief allowed a tear to flow. Deafening thunder shook the heavens, echoing between the stone walls before it retreated in a low rumble. Another tear flowed down Jal’s cheek. That’s when the rain started.

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Softness brushes the glass pane, steadily patting at the window with delicate plush soles, the kind that make intricate embroidery patterns on freshly fallen snow, but no sounds, no sounds at all, ever.

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As if waiting for a sign, the clouds gathered over the horizon. Jal looked at them and allowed a second tear to fall. Deafening thunder shook the heavens, echoing between the old stone walls before it retreated in a low rumble. Another tear flowed down Jal’s cheek. That’s when the rain started.

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According to the old legend, the mighty birds, whose powerful talons could easily carry a castle, arrived each spring to bring people the thunder, and the first true downpour of summer. When they flapped their wings, large sparks ignited the clouds.

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The large table was covered in books, as always, somebody must have been working on their metaphysics’ thesis, because that seemed to be the theme of the table this time, with mounds of books spanning from religion to philosophy, and a lot of psychology in between.

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Make me an offer: your head or your heart.

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