Part 4 of 4: The Thing Is (The End)

"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe."
-Carl Sagan

The thing is…we’re all connected. We think of empty space between us, between everything, but it couldn’t be less true. Our actions are plucking the guitar strings of reality. Some strum, some pluck and some hold their hands over the strings. Everything you did, do or will do, effects everything forever. Your bones will be in a star someday. Neat.

Anyhoo...I unload my pistols into them. I need more bullets and with that thought, I have them. I think of bigger guns, and I have them. I don’t know which one is good, who is evil, but I don’t agree with their policy, so they get bullets. The first barrage hits the beasts and they finally turn from their exclusive struggle and pay me some attention. But by then, it’s too late for them. Check’s in the mail as they say. And they fall as the last of my barrage hits them. My feet touch the ground, and it is over. The hiccups stop, the world slides back into its groove, and the song continues. The guns turn back into the old revolvers I picked up at the cottage and fall from my hands, clinking to the ground. Clink...I hear a clink. My hearing has returned and someone is hugging me from behind.

Acrylic on panel

24" x 24"