Timeless Birth

The waves of eternity crash against the rocky coast of forever. The rays of love and acceptance are setting, but still wash a warmth over all. Soon it will be replaced with the blue moon of peace and serenity.

A never ending cycle in bliss.

A soft whisper caresses the consciousness. “This is the point between two places. It is here you must decide to stay or go. To leave the peace and love of forever and go back into the turmoil of life.”

The whisper points attention to the obelisk defaced by a single black door.

The door inspires horror and fear.

The whisper no more uttered the sentence then the air around is felt, still questions swirl. Thoughts dip in and out. The potential to live again hums like a long forgotten desire.

Consciousness has come this far, it could travel no farther until answering yes or no. Here and now a decision was possible. In the timeless void counting second and minutes, days and years was meaningless.

Life was what once was. Maybe an empty candy wrapper is an apt description. A wrapper that has been licked clean. Once was. A memory gone, but for which the longing for has never disappeared.

At the start this was fine. A void in which to play. To make sandcastles on a beach that the surf never washed away, but eventually the remnants of chocolate disappeared from the wrapper and nothing could replace what the tongue craved and now Consciousness is here facing the pain of birth, of life, of wound and disappointment, all so that he can fill a need to feel the more again.

He answers yes.

His next thought is pain.

His eyes sting under bright light and his lungs burn, stuck painfully closed. Sticky gloves abrade his soft skin. His mouth opens to scream and can’t. He yearns to breath. To live. A concussive blow to his back. Nothing. Another and he sucks greedily at the cold air and sends the breath back out in a terrified scream. He is swaddled in warm blankets and laid under the softest most loving set of eyes he has ever known and all else about his existence is forgotten and time begins to tick once again.

 


 

obelisk

Photo courtesy of :

Sue Vincent’s  #writephoto

Proud and Useful

A journey can be counted in inches or miles, days or years , ease or hardship, today or forget about it.

A thing is either built or never will be.

But once built it is done.

And once done it’s fulfilled.

Oh, new journeys can be had, for sure, but they are never the same as old adventures.

As old ventures never compare to new undertakings.

The once are rotted and forgot, weeds grow up and cover, rust sets in.

Usefulness always fades.

Paint always chips.

Maintenance is never done until it lapses and then its too late.

The end always feels impossible, it’s never expected, until it comes. Then it sits like a permanent feature that will never move, ever again, forever stuck in the ether of the past.

 

 

City of Thought

“What is it?” asks the boy. He has asked many questions.

“It is the city that houses the intellect of the Universe,” says the old man who holds his hand. He is patient and kind and has been answering the boy’s every query since their journey began many moments ago.

Time is an illusion. They have eternity. Curiosity is a good thing.

“The whole universe.”

“Well,’ the old man begins wondering how much he should say. ‘This one anyway.”

“There are more?”

“Many.”

“Are we going there?”

“If you want.”

The boy scrunchies his face in thought. The old man loves him a bit more watching him decide whether he wants to visit the great city.

“What’s in there?”

“A theatre that plays every single dream every dreamt. A library of every thought ever had. A gallery of every image captured by all eyes throughout time. Concerts of forgotten conversations between the greatest people ever born. The history of everything written out in long form with no doubts.”

“Would I like it?”

The old man thinks on this moment, before answering,”Not yet. You would enjoy the city you built during your lifetime better. It would be more familiar.”

“When do we get there.”

“soon. We have much to discuss while we travel. Shall we fly?”

‘Yes please.”

And the old man allows the boy his knee and holds his hand is he climbs up onto his back. Once the child is seated comfortable he spreads his great grey wings and with three heavy flaps and a leap they are airborne again soaring through the golden air.

 


waterfall_city_by_artbytheo1

 

Art: Waterfall city

By: artbytheo

The Grand Assumption

am born

know nothing

live blindly

die assuming

everything

learned is wrong

Stars and Stripes

Britannia

Was

The biggest

Empire

At the time

Beaten

By a small civilian

Military

The whole thing

An accident

And Really

There shouldn’t

Be a USA

It should

Never

Have happened

The forefathers

Of this upstart nation

Should have

Been

Hung from trees

As traitors

Yet the ole

Stars and stripes

Flies

Still

Two hundred and forty

Years later

Thanks

To the

Solid brass

Balls

It took

To face

The British army

Too Bad

Balls

Like that

Don’t exist

Anymore

Quantum Mechanics

Some guess

None know

The math of me

Is the mystery of you

The potential substructure

The comprehensive sweep

The Universal

Definition

Of

being

Of

Nonexistence

Of

Oblivion

We own the

Beginning

And the

End

But not the between

The system of chemicals and reactions

Ruled by responsibility

So

Why cry

At birth

Why cry

At death

Those are the easy parts

Troubled only by

these questions

Of Why

And who

And Maybe

The answer is easy

Just too small

To see

Elements of Him

 

The Soul

Consciousness

Awareness of the self

Chemicals

Nerves response

Muscles

A brain

Eyes

Sight

The senses

The physical

The astral

The essence of being

Preclusion of death

The threat of nothing.

The end of what

The bobbing sense of here

The same

The now

The was

The will  

the-essence-of-him