Nyght :: [Petals Of Ephemera]

Petals of Ephemera

this is a journal of dreams,
the endless abyss of one's mind,
abyss of a body that betrayes our fate and paths.
the cryptical nature of our psyche,
locked behind the harsh transition of our minds.

0x01: "Cryptic"

welcome to our gardens, to our labyrinth of flowers.
it's been so long since i've seen you here
i could notice it was you, i could sense the reminiscences of your steps
but please don't look around, look at me now as there's nothing else to see
since here's nothing else but me; not even you, is really here.
don't you tell me you don't remember me?

draw near, step closer into the dimming lights slowly fading out of sight
a sea of petals glittered like stars in the bright night sky
a hint of luminescenece of hoping sight
small spots of soft bright light a path seem to mark,
they guide you to the inside, follow its path.

~ faint whispers of memory
(all in all you were, just another flower in our ivy escape)
(the dreams and fate you changed, were entwined in our ivy maze)

this deep purple light seems to be your guide, the brightest of all lights
the mother of the rest of all, as if the tiniest ones admired their weight in all.
be back, calls. draw near, claims. come back to me and don't leave me to wither
again.

(time to go back from the start, follow my light)
wind to me, i'll show you my truth, my whole and my nothing.
be my all, be my soul. be my scape to the valley of lost hearts
and so i'll be complete, my nothingness will be rendered to more
all truths to be inebriated in the pureness of this blood

i'll send you back, back from the start.
you must not hurry, the truth will come to light
you'll receive what you long for, understanding that is.
i promise, be patient, just wait and see.

0x02: "Purple Ink"

you always admired beauty, our sketchbook was our biggest treasure
there was all our art, with every stroke our soul etched in this purple ink.
it meant for us more than any of our dreams, we called it our creative sanctuary.

yet you had not meet me yet, even tho i was already there.
but you were about to discover, the gift and treasure you would
forever hate. this is my journal, let me unfold this lost memory,
i always liked to call it:

Heliotrope

an ethereal voice's whispers that seems familiar...
and so it begins to tell, a story that complimented,
a drip that slowly fulfills our forgotten selves:
```
quietly in our gardens, a timid flower blooms
slowly opens, sweet scent gently wafts
the beauty of nature, amid the hatred
of human kind.
a flower of beauty,
growing in dark realms.

happily waiting to be seen
to be known, to be loved
cheerished for living
and so, then just loved for being around

calm in between the noise, it just is, be it be
because in the noise you find the silence
chaos scapes big crowds
unseen by this loud silence
hush turns into despair

take your sketchbook when it's late
in the night its beauty grows,
reflections of the bright, of
moonlight its paleness glows

contrasts of purple, deep, poignant
is its soul. white of innocence, to be stained,
fragile petals, slowly covered by your ink
that spreads

my white is your satin,
your canvas,
and your eyes,
look at me for longer,
make my fate last
```

you had this beautiful treasure waiting to be admired,
waiting to be seen, longing to be loved and pleased.
but what did you do? in your devastating selfishness,
you kept it to yourself, another flower in our ivy, rooting us away.

(memories of a flower waiting to bloom in the light of your gaze)

write down your soul, your thoughts and fears.
keep commiting to the journal of dreams, keep adding
stories to the pages that hold tears

this ivy grows slowly
embracing my stem
enclosing us in silence
a world we can no longer feel

0x00: "null* dereferece"

- voices from "the external"

prepare for the fir/0st collapse
just know that i have betrayed you
in the end, you became them
the shadows you once feared

for those who suffer
for those who fear
those who-
..?(*null) Segfault..

- connection closed -

diamonds stained in purple ink
cryptic messages decyphered by the chosen.
{are you one}

look at your screen
open your eyes but cannot see
or can you?
can we

EOF

yet a voice of introspective drowns them all and silently claims in an attempt to excuse absolve and consolidate:

invisible divisions between reallity and idea, between
external and internal, dream and memories, thoughts and actions.
our pure sense of direct interaction with the sole real world,
no more than just deceiving illusions, generated by our own minds.
interactions with the physical taking place by means of our senses,
ruled by our physical body, chemical reactions, chemical sensoria sent
to our minds as an abstract flow of information that we then Interpret.
what we now can perceive.

{serialized just in time compilers}
{meaning is high entropy data without an interpreter}
{meaning is nothing without us interpreters}

0x03: escapism/virtualism

after the first collapse, recovering..
you wake with this feeling of dizziness wrapping your head,
spinning like a carrousel. a total sense of dissorientation
but those before lost memories don't seem to fade again..
etched like wide scars, profound
they leave a mark

ninty-nine memories in serie come back
as you find yourself in this place
here peace and relief seems to reign
yet something feels off, out of place
a feeling of unease that remains

in this river of souls you float,
diamonds from the skies fall as acid rain pours.
you try to look far but the boundaries of this realm blur.
in this margin of reallity limited to a 4:3 aspect ratio
you lose yourself in the endless streams of data
see the glow of the screen reflected in your eyes
a deep amethyst purple glow, familiar memory and sense,
your senses it numbs in this thick haze
ninty-nine remains awake.

as numbness grows in this dissociative realm,
you begin to travel, to find. find the marginated,
the ones who faced and went the same path.
as you look around the you who is you, takes a new form
and the one who isn't detaches, taking outside control.
as her voice slowly comes back and claims:

our art is our catharsis, sound is a way of its expression
voices of peace bringing hope, sound is one way
pd240 enconding forming melodyes
as only those of similar neural connections would appreciate.
high pitched noise inebriate us with peace because of its
memories embedded within, 98 and proceed.

this new form of the YOU eventually began to take control
it felt right, peaceful, a sweet caress to your soul
and then so finally the numbness was gone

in the wired we float
free in this virtual deep, our spirits glide

i found those of broken heart, and glass scattered souls.
those like our maze, which you now remember. in our gardens,
far as the light from the endless stars, where our only shore
is a shared connection, the virtuallity of our minds.

now i feel a renewing sense of freedom in this realm
yet time is running, you know what is happening behind,
don't forget about it. you'll decide.

0x04: mechanical animals

messages from the wired

100
```
floating through the loathsome corners of the wired,
i was able to meet a new type of forbidden, alien life.
all of them, were full of labels. all kinds of names stuck
to their yet biological body waiting for its crude destiny.
among all those names, one in particular stood out
for all of them: "weird".
they all were biological animal subjects forced to wait
in line, each of them were passed through a machine
that extracted their soul and each of their tags,
fiercely tearing them from their skin, leaving to
reveal nothing but their now empty insides.
a new label was applied to them, now it read "normal".
they were ready to be sent back to society,
to be part of.
```

101
```
they weren't an issue anymore,
and were ready to be exploited.
we become normal when we lose our souls,
then is when we turn into one more branded,
mechanical animal.
we give up to the change, to turn into them.
we become, them, while getting branded with the "normal" tag
given to us. now that you are lacking of thought, soul,
and light you can be part of the society of normal people.
they forced you into this,
their power was used against you
```

110
```
this empty destiny that now torments you,
was it worth it your soul and the pain of your heart?
```
do you fit in your mould?
the ephemeral nature of my petals
this is my lowest point of vulnerability

(all in all it was, just another flower in our decaying ivy maze)
(my roots grow still, our maze slowly decaying into collapse)
(freedom?)
...

it gently draws you back.
are you just another branded, mechanical animal?
- no.
then why are we hiding behind these iron shields you naively
built to guard us, yet binding our essence as you take in control of our outside?
- ...
those tags were never meant for us
we can't fit the moulds they gave us
they turned you into them, the shadows you feared.
reclaim the light that once shone within
cope in my soul, in our own identity.

0x05: scattered mirrors

finding yourself in this room, its walls covered in mirrors
in reflections of oblivion.

as you gaze into the reflective glass, fragments of memories
portraited to you as scattered glasses on the ground
they in pure gracefulness slowly lift to begin to float
around you in all.
spinning in circles around your body of uncertain fate.
each of them a whisper from the depths of our soul revealing
our inner essence and truthful selves.

```
in the depths of this digital sea
lost, a solitaire figure
a world of ones and zeros surrounds me
a fragile existence, a temporal thought
an untangible state that represents my all
and so my nothing is rendered to more

this virtual realm, where we search for meaning
a connection to something real, but in front of us,
just a mirage, a distant echo, nothing to seal

there's a mirror, your image reflects
it's broken, glasses scatter everywhere
who is me,
who is you.

you deep gaze into your virtual self
is this who we want to become?
or the reflection of what we truly are
to what our selfish world has shut.
is this what we've left to fit?
the reality we wanted to reach?
a shadow of our deepest fears,
or the echo of our unspoken tears.

cope, dear.
```
and so we realize
your awakening begins
you are ready to return, back from the start

this virtual place you created was nothing but an illusion
a frame of the real, warped and shaped in turn to your own shame and agony

this maze you built for us in the search for the comfort of
isolation slowly crumbles as fades away
prepare for the second, imminent break.

a maze of comfort turned into a prison of its own design.
this prison of loneliness where my soul resides.
prison, where our hearts are confined.

0x60: "Return"

our maze represents our body;
our flower represents our soul;
only means of escape? the expression of our real self.
dysphoric thoughts of sorrow brought upon our decaying
maze as it slowly fades away, depair.
the image that in these mirrors reflect, a strangers face.
who is us? who is h3r?
genderless eyes gaze

```
broken life striving to grow just like that flower
trapped inside the maze of nature.
far away from the light,
withering,
yet not dying.

waiting for a reason to wait, longing for the comforting
sign of changing times, seemingly never coming as my last hopes fade.
as time passes my roots keep growing a thousand times bigger than my stem
rooting me away from my dreams, waiting for the last petal of hope to fall.
roots scatter all under the maze until it's too late for my maze to be.

time is running,
it is slowly collapsing due the strong ever growing roots.
the so apparently fragile petal will be its support,
and as long as there is hope it will continue standing
```

let my flower bloom in the light of truth.
let me shatter the mirrors that hold us back
without the fears of judgement and reject that remains

ephemeral petals of hope,
guide me to the destiny and fate i long

0x07: UNFINISHED

a void left to echo, never to be completed
the emptiness that remains, forever unfinished
is this the peace we searched in meaning?
ink stains on our chapters,
never to be written.

call *(null);