There are two lines you can see through
when you travel fast enough through your life.
It looks as if you ceased motion
and became still.
You got the point of singularity,
where everything and nothing coexist. 
You have a lot of choices 
of not having any choice.
You reinvent yourself
and realize that everything is perfect.
You let it be,
you let it change itself
not losing its dignity,
but gaining its authenticity.
You clear your mind
and fill it with essentials
you know forever.
Two rails – your left and right,
your positive and negative, 
your lightest and your darkest –
pave the way to living.
You feel the space of yours
within these constraints,
within this scaffold that defines you.
You see blobs flashing out through your sight
which make a unique pattern of events
imprinted in your memory.
Some blobs are big enough 
to obscure the rails,
and then you feel lost for a moment:
You feel you're hanging up in the air.
You look down to find your pillars
and realize you're standing firmly on the solid ground;
the only thing that floats is your perspective 
for you to see and feel much more.
You're here, you're safe and sound,
moving to your destination
where you will be now.