Identifying (Y)our Own Light In Time

Identifying (Y)our Own Light In Time (My Epic Journey Begins/Continues/Ends)

 July 9, 2011 at 10:03 PM

Suite I Begins

I call upon Calliope to guide me through the passage of time to write this,

an eloquent gift for my king.  I chose the goddess of music, dance and song

because I and only I am the siren spoken of and spoken for by your dance.

I heard the call of a dying star high in the sky brilliantly shooting light

down around me.  Before my eyes suddenly appeared my dream cloaked in sorrow

secretly demanding  devotion absolutely sacrificing the wonder the ritual

of true Eros.  Awakening in my heart alone innocently charming considering

perpetuating painful feelings I stood alone never looking away.

At one time I needed formal verification confirmation of the truth an act of state

establishing  the accuracy of my theory.  No longer.  I am secure.  If I could

remember all the words I've ever written spoken imagined my cup would overflow with

the meaning of liberty.

You know my every dream wish desire who I am who I will be what I like

what I don't like where I go with you where I go without you when it is time

when it is not time why just why you know.

I try to understand science mathematics physics but all that I see in them

in life in love is art.  I see you have relinquished your weapons.  The golden

ball I was waiting for floats at the edge of the cosmos the time is now.

Even if, afterwards, you'd like to look away, it is not possible, due to the

sheer volume of emotional commitment.  The journey will be long.  Some call

it the never-ending story, but I call it destiny.  What is real, what is being

forsworn?  Who knows the darkness of the heart?

There is a light, I saw it earlier today.  The sun rose in my eyes, blinding

me with it's shine.  Understanding my own.  The power, the glory, the eye

of knowledge has a solitary meaning.  Alone together.

The revelatory kiss.  I felt it as a shimmering sound brushing my ears, my lips,

my mind and my soul.  The truth of the gods, the state of being in accord, is the

body of real things.  Language and words are just our tools, the theories retained

with a criterion of truth.

To die alone is glorious; no progress is without sacrifice. We have come this far

confined to our magic boxes, flying boxes, such as in a ancient feline experiment.

Are we alive or dead?  Or both?  We have died this magic death.  Our bodies we have

left behind alive.  Our minds have experienced this rebirth.

Born again, telepathic communication, communion.  We sail to the moon together.

Someone once said "The pure present is an ungraspable advance of the past devouring

the future. In truth, all sensation is already memory."  We remember it all.  The

birth, the life, the death, the resurrection.

Theories of truth continue to be debated by the unbelievers trapped in their lies.

The invention of the game, using live targets, was initially viewed as blasphemy.

Then the discovery of the rules in a hidden manuscript was a sudden revelation...

There will be no winners, no losers, only veracity as a tool of discourse. 


Expressing agreement, emphasizing claims, are we ourselves a 'conspiracy theory'?  

Only the truth is revolutionary.  Every day I hear the song of a dancing galaxy.

Sometimes it is not a choice, who we love...what we come to discover. The rain

washes away the dust, the lies, the doubt.

Enter thee at the gate, O wanderer.  Blinded drifter of time, do not delay the

wondrous bright illumination.  The entire house is in attendance.  The weight is

over.  We rise to you this time.  Dancing.  This new communication encompasses all,

is one voice among many at the dawning.

Science is magic and magic is life. Everyday occurrences seem commonplace to man.

Few see them as miracles, but they are.  There lies the mysterious source of art

and science. 

I will dance with you upon the moon tonight as a thousand shadows swirl around us,

knowing they could never match our power.  We alone possess the power of regeneration,

the power of becoming what was never.  My love is grander than the fiercest light, brighter

than the darkest star and quieter than the silent sea.

Traveling down a dark dusty road together, side by side, only stopping occasionally for a bite,

or just a nip, we see a light ahead in the not to distant future.  And when is one point all points?

Each and every night we enter the zone.  I whisper to you quietly and I hear you whispering

back to me.

Suite II Continues

A brain-busting rainbow change is coming.  We have colonized the outskirts of the new world,

sailing in our ships with painted sails, as the earth tilted on it's axis.  Unbroken shadows of no

doubt bring messages from God again to Her/mes.  Your black mood ring reflects the pain filled

window of big love. 

I am analyzing words as systems (autopsies of meaning) in diminishing shafts of daylight like a math student wrestling with some massive but not impossible equation.  The light dropped out of the day with an eye like a red marble.  Thick pink streams of night hide the vampire bats in their unique center of gravity.  It's thereness being forever totally loaded now in the big room of the mind. [yours/mine/ours]

We have reached a crucial moment, suspended in time, partners in a saprophytic relationship, suicide no longer an option.  The death of a priori  consciousness is relative.  Having the stranger live in my head reeks  of thereness.  I pour the second one wholly into my mind.  Edible  fantasies reign supreme.attainable with the second sight.

I complete the job of powering the layers of Porphyry's Isagoge.   Whole.Grain  His open palms were full of moonlight.  He looked up at  the alien stars, so far away, and whispered, "I'm, here.  I'm here."   His radiant expression could make a rock blush.  How he sung a song he  never knew mystifies me. 

A second man sees a deaf god.   Head in a cage, no manners, on the street as an alien, he washes the  blind tears from his nerve fibers.  As an evolutionary pathfinder, his  important contribution to evolving humankind is stymied by his phóbos.   Returning once again to my past, before my footsteps can be heard, I  jump into/out of the unknowable.

Sensing the creation of a  fistula, forced by obsolete.outmoded.indistinct imperfectly developed  organs of sight, I shout my secret to the generals of disregard, knowing  at last they will tear down the stone wall.  Practicing my position,  rehearsing my virtue, demanding my ineluctable fate, I die by degrees.

Do  you, in all your infinite glory and wisdom, think that this life is any  easier for me?  Do you think you are the only one that wrestles daily  with questions of providence?  Do you think because I am woman, that I  can surreptitiously  glide by the weight of this  world?  Re-imagining the empty rebellion of the rapture is attractive to  me as well, alas, though I was taught that I must work for it.  It is  an honor and a privilege to be born into such a life, and for my family  of friends, my dead parents, my non-existent siblings and most of all  for my daughter and her children, I will continue to attempt to right  what is wrong in this world, alone as I am.

I paint the  night sky with my dying desire, oblivious to the Other's opinion,  opinion of my sacred dreams.  The being of one[s] to  another's muse is indeed a heavy cross to bear.  We are clearly  different..still..exactly the same.  I struggle daily  to rise above defeat and find beauty and grace in everything.  You don't  need me anymore.  My worth has been compromised in your eyes only.  It  is with a heavy heart that I carry on.

But then, if you  swallow me whole and I become you, I will float above the water, not  unlike an alien light.  Sometimes I wonder which came first, God or  awareness, mermaids or water.  An acrobatically delightful joy overtakes  me, banishing my sudden mood swing.  As I transfer the coins from my  purse to the ceramic bank, the design of a perfect dream..I remember.   We broke the mold.

Looking in my bag of nothing I found a  long lost invitation to a celebration of the lizard.  I was intrigued; I  was sorry that I missed it, but I was busy counting birds of prey under  my cat blanket.  Documenting red flowers by the popcorn machine, "I am  two nervous blinks away from an anxiety attack."  The ninth scroll only  exists in my mind.  Many have died seeking it.  A few have lied and said  that they found it.  I know it is what you are looking for, if the  prophecy is correct. The final me.

Suite III Ends

There is no end.  We begin again..

I call upon Calliope to guide me through the passage of time to write this,

an eloquent gift for my king.  I chose the goddess of music, dance and song

because I and only I am the siren spoken of and spoken for by your dance.