Karma’s arrows

The universe stops racing away to find its inner core and takes a rest to see if it wanted more. A backward glance on its trajectory showed up a little glitch. I am toying around with the speed, gravity and pitch. Electromagnetic waves are coming from a source disrupting the flight path that set the universe on its course. A trace back to its origins can be found, a blank page that held its breath with a promising sound…and yet the purpose of the endeavour remains unclear. What does the author and the protege hold so dear? A cascade of uncountable mirrors reflecting what one looks at, to step on to a revolving stage. A foreboding question raised. Where do you live? Is it the here and now?

Do you dare to ask why, here and how.

Now, you feel the blood that runs through your veins with a veracity that makes your breath quicken like never before. Listen to the anatomy of an orchestra trained to push the senses to their very limits.

What a piece of work! I am the only one to take the mantle up. A time collecting clock with an arrow of time. KLK. It takes 8 strokes to make the letters. 9 to make the circle complete. 10 to hit the target and the game is on. We are in. We will follow the trajectory of the arrows at intermittent points in our story but meanwhile, on the more earthly realm, our pranxterrorist et al are having fun.

I park my Sherman tank on a police car’s wailing siren, gathering an inner circle of adoring fans as I hand out vanilla ice cream cones to teenagers who want to learn what they were not taught in school. Hopping on each other’s shoulders to get a glimpse of me.

Malcolm Mc Claren rolls out of his grave to savour a whiff of my punk rock wave but I graciously decline and no contract is signed. I am the revival that you have been waiting for.

Vivien Westwood cuts my cloth from stormy cumulus clouds that hover above my head. Drawing them down to her fingertips to weave a shimmering costume around what you most dread. The now.