Of whips and lashes.

Every passing moment brings to mind the same blinking red neon sign...

"What shall I do?!"

 It's not a cry of helplessness. It ain't even a blinding desperation to get oneself out of some sort of an ordeal. A seemingly everlasting limbo. That's what it feels like. Just like how time feels. No known beginning. No visible end. It just stays in the background. Tick-tock.. Tick-Tock...priding itself in being the fourth dimension. But never the less, with each tick, and each tock, the moments are coming to a closure. The entropy is ever increasing with every passing moment. Imagine being at the crest of a wave created on a string by violently moving one end of it up and down. You're not going to stay at the crest for ever. As a matter of fact, as soon as the wave moves along the string, you'll feel all of existence being pulled down till the point where you reach the bottom crest of the wave. Then there will come the pull to the top. And so, the motions will repeat themselves until you and I get used to the upward and downward motions, even to the point that we fail to acknowledge the jerks we feel at either end of the crests.Whiplash after whiplash. And it will all be fine. No one is going to bother anyone. The jerky limbo will last a lifetime, and then each one shall bid adieu to this earthly stage. 

It's all a play. A game of cards, and that of thrones.

A sleigh of hands. Of tells and shows.

A queen of hearts, who fell for the the king of jewels.

An ace of hearts, who got clubbed to death.

Everyone wondered and asked what happened. 

Jacks stood by laughing, for they had written the end.

There shall be many a jaw that drop, at the sights they shall see. They can't shake their eyes off what confronts them. And they cannot hide their fascination, neither their hatred for all things they couldn't have, and couldn't be. 

Each of the ones you leave behind, shall pale in front of the next. And lest one shall not do so, unjust is one to oneself, and the rest. For if you don't do so, you settle for lesser, and will make it an indelible habit. So run after the rabbit, into the hole, and out like a mole. Through all the dust, across the burning coal, leaping over parts, living parts of wholes.