Behind the veil of days

Mysterious lights up in the sky aren't quite necessary. Voices from beyond the grave aren't essential to fill us with anxiety and suspicion, neither apparitions nor things which move by themselves are. At most they are slips, exceptions, programme failures.

What does matter -what lurks- is that disturbing and grotesque normality which remains silent. Though dull-looking, such prosaic a matter conceals a threat. Mystics scented its falsehood, science flatly proved it.

It is pure illusion, given that, behind it, something formless controls our world and maybe even the Universe.

It obviously doesn't especially love or hate us, nor does it care about our false freedom. There is only one thing I find strange and off script: we're finding out.