The Listening Room Magritte

flash forward to the rot all perfection spoils in a myriad of ways a perishable item should not be idolised nor allowed to take over a space for a moment though I understood placed the flat of my hand on the surface found a heart beating sat present with myself I breathed slowly and intentionally while everything was fresh as light streamed in all too quickly shadows drop its darkness will mingle with mine there will be nowhere to rest in this all-consumed space until the idol rots down