Ambiguity

Everything is only half of something else and we're trapped inside.

Tonight I saw myself dead on the floor watching as the sun neared noon. I was shocked by the nothingness of everything, by the beauty that surrounded death, and by the death folded inside this beauty. As I stood staring a delightful scene of awe and happiness mixed in a single elixir of death, time rushed and space felt empty, then, in a miracle compared only to the miracle of existence and inexistence at the same time, time stopped and space felt full and everything went on in an eternal cycle like that of life and death. Then time and space vanished in my hands without stop being, and in an eternal fraction of a second time rushed and stopped again, as if it was invulnerable to any kind of destruction, and space felt empty and full again, as if it was the only miracle that ever challenged time in its quality of infinity and inexistence. Then everything was a metaphor of itself without stop being, and a world of thought blurred my view. 

Eternity came to an end and started again. Everything, as I stared myself dead watching the moon nearing midnight in the midst of day, was empty and full, ambiguous and senseless. Then I realized I was never dead, nor alive, and it was him who frantically and eternally looked upon me. He saw himself dead on the floor watching as the sun neared noon.