Wet Paint

I was just like you and many others, when the world rotated the other way round. We only knew each other by voices and energy. We fed on the grid of the sun. One day, a library appeared with the morning mist, carrying all the knowledge I ever wanted to know. Without hesitation, I raced into the library; I hadn't read "WET PAINT" behind the entry door..... I indulged in a quiet literary moment, as I read how the world came to be, a rogue cosmic stone that re-winded the evolutionary clock, and many more knowledge I was forbidden to know by my invisible guardians and ancestors. Regrets sank in when a voice told me it could see my body! It could see the prison of my soul! I wasn't the only one; many other souls had entered the library, getting painted by the wet brush of tabooed knowledge. As time elapsed, the invisible ones were outnumbered by painted souls, turning to ghosts and genies in the new era. Still, the library is there. Some invisible souls are wary, gazing at the library's entry door from a distant corner...... Date of Entry: 2/2/2018