For a Moment

I am a child. An infant at best.

But, for a moment,

Forget that we exist.

There is a cloud, which does exist, floating surrendorously from the depths of some long, thick pipe, extracting itself from some building, some factory, of sorts. It is floating, carefully, but surely to the bottom of some region that we have not yet discovered, which lies plainly above our universe, dully twinkling in an invisible hum.

The cloud swells amongst the laughing children, and barking dogs, and screaming women, and shouting men, and illicit drug influenced inbetweens. And over a monotonously long time, too long to begin to conceive, but miraculously occurring in an instant, a millisecond, a flicker, a moment of time. Much like this year has progressed, dubiously slowly, but we've found ourselves recklessly tossed from the beginning to now, almost the end, at the click of some sweaty, disproportionate fingers.

This moment brings a cloud, the cloud, our cloud, to the cusp. This consequential cusp between continuity and predeceasing. That is to say, the universe, and some other land. In this cusp is a firm crust resembling the sweet texture of golden waffles, as the cloud begins to penetrate such force, it is pushed away by some inconceivable force. A spray of sorts, as if a can of whipped cream were exploded through a minuscule point.

The puffy cloud, diluted between dark matter, waffle crust cusp and whipped cream. The confusion heightens, along with the immense desire and yearn for waffles that some child or infant may experience daily. And so begins the start of something that is yet to begin and sises to start. Thumbs twiddle, and minds numb, and a melody hums lightly in the background. A moment passes. A few others stumble by. Before a crashing wave of insomnia and unsubtle convulsions stutter through space, and swirl in to a large black space.
Which is a hole, open mouthed, teeth beared waiting to swallow us whole, but on our approach, on our clouds approach, it's eyebrows furrow and are raised magically in correlation with some child, some infant, pressing their lips to a beacon of swell cuteness.