Sure as Autumn Flame

In our digitalised world, time never stops, reality goes unchecked, and we evolve as each second ticks by.

In the world of bytes, we become a persona – duly written by our own keyboard strokes, envisioned through our idealised minds, and enacted by the puppet-master in us. We become our own authors, we dream the impossible that we can achieve, we pen a world that revolves around us. In this world of bytes, all is good, the drama swells to a emotional high, but ends on a happy note. Just like how the princess meets her Prince Charming. Perhaps not – we may choose to end it in death, in loneliness, in a empty desolate shell. We think we might have had ventured into that state of emptiness and loneliness, but in reality – we live in quiet assurance that the worst will not cross paths with us.

In this timeless realm where the unreal trespasses the real, we blur the lines between our true Selves and the Other we present. Behind a facade of HTML codes, scripts, data and visionary creation – the Jester emerges, the Frog hides behind its lotus leaf. The dancing Tinkerbell flitters next to the one she secretly yearns; she teases, she giggles, she chatters, she is his dream come true. Behind the velvet curtain the Temptress lounges in seductive red, her eyes burning into her Lover, he gazes, he buckles, he moves with an agility of a leopard and they two melt into one. In this timeless realm, imagination knows no boundaries, and we move into a dance of decadence fueled by our desires and wanderlusts.

Through the vines of cable wires, satellite transmissions and an invisible cloak I wear – I write my piece, and my invitation to you to enter my woven pieces still stands every night. Will you, do you – trade your Self for your Other, to lose yourself in the freedom of your imagintion, thoughts and recklessness – for a story, spun out from keyboard strokes, backspaces and unbridled exchanges? Will you sit on the Aladdin’s carpet of fantasy that only your mind can steer; the magic carpet is your carriage, your pumpkin as you deem fit; it falls when you snap back; it flies in rhythm to your pulse.

And I write fervently, catching up with your thoughts on fire, your winged shoes soaring higher. I lose mySelf and it is the price I willingly pay, provided you shed your Self and let the Other take my hand;

…In this digital realm we write; lost in the real world divide.