You're a remix. Material, small pieces of suns and planets, particle waves and radiation, dust from every possible origin of universe alive within the parenthesis which is you. For no other reason than you needed to exist, to fulfill logic and the consistency of sequence and con-sequence, this material became available. Became a different version of you as you time traveled forward, emigrated from the continents of second to second. You, as you are this very moment as you read these words with your eyes scanning left to right or hearing the words read and translating the sound of voice to the memory-carrying nets that signal various interpretations that compete for your understanding--You, who is right this instant the most exclusive, marvelous, original version of your own indigenous action. You are unique. So small, as if you were, in size, to one of your atoms what that atom was to you. So insignificant when the whole picture is viewed and one looks for activity. And yet, if you even blink for a quarter of a second you've changed the physical lexicon of the entire universe, for in that quarter of a second you've created a difference between a universe in which your eyes are open and another in which they are closed.
20 January 2012
The Compromised Purging Flame of Consciousness
I had a dream. it was a collective exhibition, that took unedited grazings of events and from the shadows of their memories built a carousel of mirrors that mocked my reflection as it spun, and made the riders nauseous. A singing rogue with his ears perched on deaf musings seemed ignited alight by the velocity--he in fact, controlled the dials. I watched as down fell the motions of night's alumni, returning yet again to be seated amongst themselves as the valid audience of murder. I could do falsehood no greater disservice than by right this moment admitting to you that I believed myself a man, wrapped heavily in the permanent hands of Death. My lungs, once diving freely into the silken tapestries of air, now burrowed in the sketch of frantic; as they debated with retired reserve for the nerve to crawl the sharpness of chalky smoke. It burned the ions of sight, it froze the neon neurons of voice. A gasp funneled into my throat and there a knot of pain curled into a fetus before trembling into stone. It was in this nature that I withdrew from consciousness, omitted myself, sensibly, from the portions of space and time. Gently was I greeted by the crumbling void. Finally was it so that I washed away from the waking senses and found myself bound to the heat of the groaning dirt. Ablaze, became the dry cracks that drew thickening branches on the pavement. And as the fire stretched high, vividly and overzealously to the sky, with it went my flesh easily removed like wet posters. I awoke here and passing my hands over my skin, quickly confirmed the encasing flesh that dressed my naked soul had not been stripped. Disappointedly confirmed.