Dead things are everywhere, we just don't notice them. The life has gone out of them and only cold darkness remains. Here and there you might pass by them, scattered throughout our living world.
An abandoned car on the side of the road, a red stained pipe-wrench o
(more)n the floor of an abandoned subway station, the crumbling remains of a house built a hundred years ago.
Little more than bodies, the spirit that once lurked within
gone.
A stuffed bear lying in a gutter, a pile of crushed cans next to overturned chairs, a lonely foil wrapper fluttering in the breeze.
Society rushes blithely by, forgetting what they never wanted to remember with eagerness.
A barrel of toxic waste buried under desert sands, a note from a lover tucked into a dusty drawer, the last dress she ever wore hanging in the closet.
Life and death live side by side without the slightest nod of acknowledgement. Night and day, hot and cold. Alive. Dead.
The room neatly made up for no one, the hot meal going cold in the oven, the picnic basket stashed in anticipation of fair weather.
Sometimes, somewhere, some people see it. They look upon that other world and recoil, because they see what they don't want to.
They see that it's no different, it's all the same.
Alive. Dead.
Dead. Alive.
It's all the same.(less)
