Absolute Anchor

 The being having ably circumnavigated the chaos would have smiled if he had had a mouth. 


 From his view, the chaos was filled with stars emanating energy into every possible direction, consuming and releasing, none able to survive without the other. He had trailed a rope in his wake. Upon return to the point in which he'd set off, he picked up the rope and tied it off. He readied himself. Like a fisherman, he wound the rope between his palm and elbow, picking up the slack. 


 With a thought as the trigger, the line receded into where he was gripping it with immense speed! It ran itself through everything that was, and the flow of energy stilled. When the rope had returned to it's source, everything was steadfast and anchored to his idea. All was frozen, and there was peace.


A perpetual moment captured.

Stabilis per ira, cupiditas, acediam, superbiam, libidinem, invidiam, gula.

And for a time, the being was pleased. 


 The being sensed a change in his surroundings. He was still holding the rope that had run through all that was. Yet his perfect stillness seemed to be changing. Something in the picture was different. Yes! All around him, the blackness was becoming lighter. A pinkish tinge began to stain the darkness. It looked as if the light were closing in around him as it grew in intensity... Brighter, and closer, and brighter, and closer!


 As the glare began too much to bear even squinting, he shut his eyes. Feeling as if a wall had slammed into his back, the light ran through him and continued on. Upon recovery, he opened his eyes and witnessed a spherical wave of light shrinking towards the center. It closed around and vanished into a perfect outline of all that was.


 He realized he was still clutching the rope and it seemed that all was the same. A snapshot. However, upon the being's closer examination, absolutely everything had changed! Everything had exchanged the tiniest fraction of energy, causing the larger picture to look the same, but the intricate moving great distances. The being noticed the surroundings beginning to lighten once more. It was happening again. 


He remains there, unable to do anything but brace for the oncoming barrage of light.

Persistens castitatis, temperantia, caritatis, industria, patientia, benignitas, humilitas.

 Stills of waves flow to the moment of a being's consciousness. The waves come and take shape of us, slowly encasing shells of energy, becoming such, and what we experience. 

Dark Puddle

A body of black liquid lies in my thoughts with danger signs lining it's borders. 

A pool considerably small in relation to the expanse of sky, snaking rivers, and exotic rain forests vining together my emotional and callback memory. However, this puddle is cognitively avoided like death. The Imp of the Perverse mockingly dances around it's edge, flicking matches dangerously close, all the while cackling as I flinch. The Imp knows what happens when it catches, and myself, more so.

At times of vulnerability (usually upon my decision to sleep), he bows his head and looks at me over his nose, both his dark cheeks cornering to show a mischievous smile. He leans back for distance, and hurls a torch into the air. His eyes grow in multi-colored intensity as the flame spins towards the oily center.

The body outwardly erupts in waves of fiery embarrassment and melting regret. Each wave creating more sets, until every heart wrenching, sweat inducing experience has been lived again. The puddle settles... upon which the imp howls at my distress. 

We all have a dark puddle

... and I just felt an earthquake.

Hopefully the imp fell in, the little prick.

A Plane of Extremes.

With time comes understanding, and the amount dependent on how you use both, as they are relevant. 

I've never deciphered this dream, let alone been able to explain it. Nonetheless, I'm going to try, but first offer some background.

From what I remember, the first time I had ever been plagued by this dream was when I was 6 years old. I had been at a waterpark for a day, and the sun must have been a relentless force. I recall trying to convince friends and family members to accompany me on the children's rides all day, which was more than likely a constant struggle for both parties.

I was rundown. Overheated. I'll never forget entering the oven of a car, and seeing faces in the leaves of the trees skirting the bitumen. I didn't understanding why the rest of my family were clueless, and was jubilant upon the discovery. With every subtle breeze the leaves would move and create faces within faces. I figured that day that everything natural had some sort of face to it, and I still believe so. As we pulled out of the parking lot I must have fallen under, not before expressing my discovery and hearing for the first time the word "Delirious".

I don't exactly remember where I came to, but upon awakening... Well...  My best description of the dream is as follows:

I am on the smallest track* imaginable, slowly curving into an abyss of white in front and behind. An atom in width, my being as of such. The white is not blinding, nor even glaring. A similar path of the same qualities is running almost perpendicular to my own, and I can not sense any other beings upon it. There is no sound. There is no shadow. There is almost nothing.

What comes next happens with lightning speed, yet every minute detail is experienced.

I can only describe it as a gargantuan ball, immeasurable in size. It is rolling along my path. I realize that diving out of the way or trying to outrun it is useless; I don't even have a body.  It rolls towards me with shocking speed, growing in size the closer it becomes. When it is at it's nearest point, yet still observable, I see it is made up of the path on which I am... actually a part of. As it hits me, I become a part of the ball...

... And I wake up. And I lose my shit.

I feel I need to stress the immense speed in which everything happens in the strange subconscious event. The best way to describe the sense directly after is by using the word 'hopelessness'. The only remedy I have to get rid of the nausea and absolute fear is by running to the shower and sitting under the hot water for as long as possible. The warmth naturally sooths me, and with the steam surrounding, I am enveloped in safety. Only in the past few years have I been able to describe the dream with words, and even now I don't think I'm doing it justice.

*I use the word 'track' as I can't think of any other way to describe it. Try imagining a path of commas heading out in opposite directions to infinity slowly rising and falling. You might wonder how I know the path is so small in matter if I am of the same size. Well, I can just feel it.

I may have mentioned it to you before, and we may have talked briefly on it. All the key events are there. It has been over a year since I have last fell victim to it, and although I am intrigued in exploring it further, I'm hoping it doesn't present itself anytime soon.

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Surface Tension

The chair was a structure deep brown and basket woven. It's texture was never appreciated as a child for the feeling of incompleteness to the touch. Running fingers up and down would harshly meet the the skin, encouraging the imp of perverse to stretch a link even though it was painful. Sliding horizontally was like following the concert of three dolphins. The middle, nose up, just breaking the surface as the surrounding are simultaneously at the brink of immergence, never truly meeting their fellow. Strange, yet these thoughts felt so true.

And the best way to exemplify a thought, is to say that it is just that; a truth. 

Upon this chair I sat. A being of love sat not an arm's length away on a similar chair deficient in perfection. A man akin to a bear slumbered on a cushion inside. In the distance, an angel of light danced about a lily-filled pond, speaking to it's inhabitants. "I can speak fish language, didn't ya know?" she claims (more than asks) with distracted eyes, belief growing in her young and hopeful mind. 

Before me lazed a body of water with night-dark stone at it's base. Green and dusky browns were predominant colors throughout the surrounding garden, all shades present. Mango trees were calling out for attention from our cloud-obscured Sun, some reaching at least 30 meters, their mammoth fruit a product of their purpose. Palms spread their feather-like leaves like peacocks squaring up one another, while the green moss surreptitiously slid down the far walls and over large stones. It's growth made indiscernible by the distractingly exotic flowers.  

I felt I had traveled somewhere at that point. Not entirely in my 'reality', nor in a spiritual state. I felt somewhere between.

A dragonfly joined me in 'between'. It flew past my being of love to land on my left shoulder. Carefully, I turned my neck to examine my new friend. It's small legs worked to swivel it's perfectly balanced body, the four opaque vascular wings, and the bulbous stained glass eyes towards what was in front of me. I felt peace.

On seeing it's face, I found that contained in it's mouth was a single orb of water. The dragonfly's forelegs worked to force this suffocating element out of it's jaws, but as it's limbs entered the liquid globe with ease, they would just as simply slide out. It couldn't help itself. Impulse drew me to help, and although the situation felt akin to emergency, I empathized relief, just like I would feel if I had found someone to save my life. We knew it was safe.

I less than delicately, yet not in the least harmfully, moved my index finger to it's mouth. On contact with the water, it's sticky, elastic quality became my burden, which was wiped on my shorts, somewhat making what was only seconds ago life threatening, virtually nonexistent! I placed my finger to the dragonfly's mouth once again to check for more water, and just before contact, it's forelegs clamped around my finger... For a good ten seconds, it held me. 

I was not shocked. I was not bored. I was in a state of belief in which what was happening were absolutely natural. Only when the thought of telling the one next to me (who had seen the contact, but not experienced it) exactly what had happened, did I begin to excite. On that thought, it flew to rest on my left, pausing for a moment, and just as it had arrived, it departed.

I departed, too, but not back to where I was before the wonder. My dragonfly left with it's life. I left with it's love.

Love is a feeling I have experienced for a person before. It's a feeling that had me believe a blizzard would be no match for the warmth I held inside. Every moment is an epiphany, felt and felt again, astounding in its absolute passion for care and generosity. A smile that is almost uncontrollably exhaled from the depths of your chest, sparking a flash of euphoric disbelief in many situations others wouldn't understand. Something that all feel willing to try for, again and again. Something that all feel willing to die for, again and again.

I have experienced it for a person before. I had never experienced it for my world.

There, on my chair of imperfection, I discovered I was in love with it. I was in love with my dragonfly. I was in love with our world. I was in love with you. I am in love with all that is. I am love.

As a rough stone is shaped by a river of water, layers of thought are touched upon and sent into infinity, becoming something we may enjoy or dislike, but something we should always accept and appreciate respectfully. When all that is found unnecessary has been discarded, we will find nothing but what it was always: truth.

And the best way to exemplify a truth, is to say that it is just that; a thought.

For reasons unknown, my dragonfly and myself experienced a thought/truth that changed both our lives.

Yet it only occurred when life was in jeopardy...

... And my thoughts are beginning to accept and appreciate that we're to expect the same.

My Smile

Innocent youth mixed with a rush
of excitement, darkness, and a crush;
soft skin
(my smile)
to 
the touch.


A moment that is realized,

when pride has been improvised.

"What just happened!?":

(my smile)

Par-

alyzed!

A lap substitutes a chair.

Oxygen replaced with air:
literal sweetness!
(my smile)
Of
your hair.


A heavy head not knowing it's lent

it's mind to cause; tired; spent:

lie back, close eyes: 

(my smile)

that

moment.

A smile directed like an attack

on a heart that's hurt, with love in lack:
Caught by surprise.
My smile
sent 
right back.


Things I like to think I have thought
upon, as some things are never taught:
The life you lead was a battle fought,
not merely something ancestry bought.
Like the sound of an apple being caught,
please,
Learn to seek that which should be sought!

*I wrote thinking about things that happen/have happened and the moments in which smiles aren't necessarily shown, but felt, and how easy it is to not remember/appreciate those times.

**More than seriously though: go get an apple, throw it up in the air and catch in one hand. Listen to the sound it makes! Everything written above stemmed from an apple. Pun intended.

The Departure of Dreams

The trophy glistened as if it were divine. Raising eyes and expanding chest in triumph before the masses, he offered it slowly to the sky. The expectation was there.


The deep grey clouds gracefully parted like curtains at a theater, making way for their amber glowing counterparts. There, obscured by it's brightness, beamed an awesomeness with fingers of warmth, dancing their way to the call of it's existence. The moment was there.


Palms of energy enclosed about the goblet... 

... The sustained unbroken commitment was deluded!

A fierce breeze ripped through the space, tearing apart elation with aggression not unlike the sight and surprise of two hounds brawling, leaving the collective with mixed thoughts of confusion and silent cries of alarm. The glow, with reluctance and disappointment, receded into it's dark cave of nostalgia. 


Sharp pains above the temples were felt as hopelessness spiraled through abandoned hearts in waves. The distance of sight was held, though all stares were lowered. 


His cup was void.


The flare's retreat is ever happening, recoiling to a distance unfathomable, yet still experiential --A spark. A shimmer. A twinkle.-- Forever seen. Eternally out of reach.

"Panic in the shape of the wounded"

Dread in the frame of the crowd

Bliss in the chest of the self-endowed

Fondness in the make of the riff

Gloom in the fall of the just slipped

Shock in the wake of the swift

Fury in the stamp of the disallowed

They say it aloud!

(Say it's allowed...)

fear joy love sadness surprise anger