Epilogue

[fototropical.livejournal.com]

and they began to cough up the universe's distortion: a yellowish mucus
that clogged their nose and chest. they slept and dreamt in startling clarity.
awake, they would stare into seemingly blank space. perhaps they could
not decipher what they saw. but that is probably not the case. they were
sick with understanding, an understanding that practically dripped from
their ears. many of them believed that they were dying. they sat in their beds
refiguring their diets. they thumbed through books adding up their symptoms
to determine specific ailments. they created tonics and dug up age old remedies.
but it was that which was age old that they were coughing up: balls of tissue
heaped like pyramids at the side of a bed. flus go around like wake-up calls.
and one by one they woke. their clarity sometimes frightened them. they were not
used to this brand of understanding that charged them with the inevitable power of
disrupting comfort zones. in a new age, such as this, comfort zones are the first
to go. when two or three gathered they would glow. they were attracted to each other like
crystal clusters. the very likes of which remain on her fingers. the question
remains, like steaming heaps of ruins of newly bombed cities. we wander aimlessly, perhaps, only to find the ring of a loved one, now gone....and i pose quesions as if there were a camera.

--SAUL WILLIAMS