The Pause

“In the beginning, there is an unknown end.”



The thought cut the mind of the old man.

After he prays, he falls and spins.

Docile and immaculate is his mind.



Yet, he and I cannot cross.

The old man returns where he’s been before – but different.

Return him here, where things are different.

Whatever they call peace somewhere, he won't have here.



Any second now he appears.

There he comes with welcome tears.

Take his time, no need to wait.



Strange is this space, some sort of a void?

This is an area having nothing but a trough.

No color. No people. No pain that struck a moment ago.



Feeling a heat on your head.

Your candle on a rock makeshift.

Hear the voice which is not your voice,

Surrounded by the rectangles.



Puzzled, you continue to think.

Think what? There is pause.

Who’s speaking? Nothing I expected.

What now? What now I found.

But you are still wandering around.



You stop, unsure of what will happen next.

You think as if you are getting angry.

You don’t even know if this is real.



Stop playing games! Am I alive or dead?

New name? I wonder it myself.



You turn to me again.

The mirror took your name.

It’s named the pause.

What's that supposed to mean?

No matter I suppose, but that mirror is there,

And you still show unseen.



Holding that candle in front of that mirror.

Who are you? Answer unknown.

Show yourself! It's not possible anymore.

Stop pausing! I can’t. I am the pause.



I don’t know what you are thinking about.

Thinking about? What are you talking about?

Talking about? What are you thinking about?



I am here and there, if that makes you feel any better.

See me? I don’t understand you.

I see myself, this candle, and that mirror.

That is this, and this is that. It's that clear.



You think as if you are confused.

“What are you even talking about?”

What are you thinking about when you say, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t understand…”

There is no need to understand. This is not your place.

“I just want some answers…”



I’ve had this thought with you countless times before.

“What do you mean ‘this thought?’”

In here, you think and only think. With thought, you feel.

Every time you return you think the same thing.

Every time you return I repeat the same thought to you.



You think as if you are very lost at this point.

“You think… and feel?”

Correction: You and I think to feel.

“Uh... okay..."

You think as if you are suddenly surprised.

"Wait… so I’m dead?”

If you’re dead, then why did you think you were alive or dead?



Though you have more questions, you think as if you grow tired of this connection.

“Enough! What’s going on?”

Nothing was, is, or will be as long as you remain here.

“So what do I do? Where do I go?”

You must sacrifice your senses for your mind.

“You’re talking in riddles!”

Riddles are the reasons why I think.



You stop to think.

“Think this; think that… this is useless!”



You are moving towards the mirror.

“What are you doing? Hey, stop!”

You touch the mirror with the candle.

“Stop it!”

The candle enters the mirror. The mirror fluctuates.

“Leave me alone!”

You now go into the mirror.

“Wait!”

You become the reflection.



It repeats, again.