In deepest space, connected by immeasurable time and incomprehensible distance the tokens of forever blend the fate of truth to the lies which they rest on.
“You say you saw the dumpster bring this into being?”
“Yeah. Along with a couple of carrots and a half eaten ham sandwich. After eating the sandwich I was there in order that such an event might reoccur.”
“It does seem that could be the way oh brother elusive, what with this expounded condition and its outcome. Maybe you were meant to be in the dumpster just then, just as time’s famous focal point whipped this world. Seems as good a sake as any. But could it be instead that the carrots and our famous item brought us, the dumpster and the world into being? Carrots or no carrots, this thing is out of whichever god damn place our brother fate put it in.”
The two dishevelled dumpster buddies motioned to each other over the silhouettes cast by the god damn glorious moon. Neither friend took their jobs as dumpster vultures as a long term venture. They both believed deep down that the day would come when dumpsters would vulture-ise themselves. One of them, for names were irrelevant in all the deepest of fate bending consequences, spoke thus:
“Hand me that holiest of carrots then. I’d love a nibble.” And indeed that he did nibble, although not quite the carrot he desired. The other buddy, fearing an injustice would come soon enough for the carrots, had handed his friend a radish instead. The mysterious object and the silhouette moon could never be in perfect harmony again.
“This is a radish! A god damn glorious radish, but a radish nonetheless. If only its silhouette had the colour enough to be distinguishable from a carrot. I’d have been safe.”
“But the carrot wouldn’t have been safe, lest alone to have a coloured silhouette. Such a thing must never be.”
“And you, there in your very own choice of dumpster; your very own coloured microcosm, forgive the pain of a radish in order that a carrot - by whom nothing had been indubitably offered by it, to you - be saved? I hope vultures peck what little you have to bare into your multicoloured skull so bright.”
Nothing now stirred this night, yet many motions were in ordered harmony, ready to move together, as one, as a whole. And high above the dumpster buddies, perched in clouds set amidst stratospheric blue, one more of the gods of awareness stirred a sleepy eye, casting vapour back at an Earth so far below.
“Its going to rain my amorphic friend.”
“It already is, and has and will. Surely not tonight oh weeping vessel of many moonbeams. A closed sense takes my radish from me.”
“That to save a carrot which had offered us a curtailed bluster of reality?”
“And fear of truth, oh brother, boils in what side? Out or in? I ask you, speak now brother.”
“Not either side has the answer here dear brother nebulous. We observe the side between in and out this night. Behold the object of our fear thus!”
Buddy second, the consumer of ground dwelling root vegetables, for that name hast now applied itself to his presence, aloft, a lifted, beheld the item a dumpster prenatally had seemed to bare and strike the night, so lost of light, aloft, a lifted, alone this night.
“That is it brother imprecise. The sky speaks our praise!”
“Forgiving your radish discrepancy the dumpster’s child holds the key my friend, the door opens!”
Their sky peeled orange petal folds in capitulated cascades - crack, collide the lighted night – the dumpster buddies took form a new, took flight.