by Shaun Lawton
Just what manner of forces go toward shaping the ghosts about to form within a single droplet containing the elixir of life as we know it? It seems that to ask such a question, one must have already learned enough about unraveling the mystery of existence to presuppose the notion of anticipating ectoplasmic building blocks at the fulcrum of creation's constant and ongoing development executing the same program being downloaded since time immemorial and furthering the approach toward an unknown period ahead of us in the dimly lit recesses of the manifestation of life yet to develop over the horizon we're all headed toward. It seems to me sometimes to be like the distant shores awaiting us along the coastline of the unchartable continent of Oblivion, or it might as well be, since entropy guides us along its relentless wake to be surfed back into the ground zero of being, time and again. What phantoms may linger indeed, infusing the air with their disturbing eloquence? Within the seething cauldron of circumstances where possibilities shapeshift into reality.
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