The prophet cries across all time. Sower words of monster’s crimes. Caution calls us from the past, Gods and men and beasts it blasts. Turning, turning, spinning, HELP! The words are true, it’s warning felt! Pack your bags, and slam the door, throw your voices on the floor. Chaos cries his piercing voice “Look at it all, you have no choice! You see it, you see it, everywhere, the north, the south, and over there!”, “Help us!”, “Save us!”, muted screams, the sound of silence strongest seems, or maybe, hear me, just a thought… It’s just the silence of a battle being fought. A mighty blow and mighty stitch. A nervous action, supressed by a twitch. Think and listen it’s all around, the crashing nothing of opposite sounds. The magnet wave sustained by both; the plus, the minus, the invisible bout. There is no movement, yet there is all. No room for improvement, the chaos call.
The hand outside the paper holds a magnet in its palm. The eyes watch the battle; furious but calm.