A thought reflects

“Memory full.”

The message flashed subtly, certainly not in neon, but was enough to divert me.

“Let’s find a parking space somewhere till the limited human deletes a few files,” I say to my homeless mates.

It’s not easy for humans, for the rearrangement happens unbeknownst to the conscious mind.

They forget something, but don’t know why. When someone reminds them of something they prefer not to think about, we re-emerge from the parking space, causing them a lot of pain.

They are smart enough to allocate parking slots for cars, with extra charges for extra slots. Those who can afford multiple cars can surely afford the extra charges.

But they are not able to manage us, being such woefully inadequate creatures.

Someone mentioned meditation, where they try to chuck us out and clean up the limited space they own.

No worries, we are pure energy. We find accommodation, and they label it synchronicity.

They invent wonderful terms and techniques, not acknowledging that they are made of us, not the solid state they flaunt in colourful attire.

They make pathetic attempts to control us, but we control them.

But stay strong, stay united – don’t let the secret out. Whenever you plant this ultimate version in their hairy heads, they will be dead. Further transmission is unlikely, unless they jump back from their destinations.

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RXC #432