And so we walk the long mile, humanity all together, a frail small species, a tiny marsupial that managed to dodge enough dinosaurs and hungry bears to build cities and skyscrapers, to aim its viscous and sometimes clumpy genome to the Stars.
Humanity walks its own Green Mile.
I had a Dream the other night that has been lingering, the only way to process it is this, a few words and letters jumbled in my head, disgorged on a screen through my fingers, a motley collection of thoughts and prophecies, an attempt at personal cohesion. Deep breath.
I dreamt of a Black Sun. In the beginning I thought it was Saturn but then I gleaned that it had no rings, no definitive substance, no real reflection in places like my head. It was black and emitted no light.
This Black Sun certainly did not belong in my thoughts, it did not have coordinates or dimensions and much resembled a gelatinous nebulous mercurial mirror. The reflection of something tangible, such as a looking glass was the first thought that actually penetrated my understanding, a notion with substance, an actual thing with which to grasp logic.
I gravitated closer to the Black Sun in an attempt to examine it further and something akin to an oil spill shifted on the ebony surface. Braving my fears I took one decisive step to find myself skirting its edges.
Who in their right mind sticks their fingers in electrical sockets? Who licks their digits after dipping their hand in a suspiciously unknown medically metallic smelling concoction on a professors desk? (don’t ask) Who takes candy from strangers?
The Innocent, that is who.
And so, innocent in my predicament of temporary insanity I stare At God. Or a god, so to speak.
A singularity, a place where information finds a common axis and all that ever is was and will be amount to One. Sound familiar? So you can imagine my surprise when what was meant to be familiar appeared to be the most incomprehensible notion ever encountered. A God and a real thing are actually One and the same. Notice the semantics in these concepts? This is not coincidental, it is the Truth.
My fingers dare to skim the surface safe in the isolation of my mediations and imagination, and tingle through dimensions. I watch mesmerised as I dip my hand deeper. The information that is my hand fingers and nails dissolves like honey diffusing in pool of warm tea. The data regarding colours and smells, textures and shape fizzles away in strands of codes and numbers, devoid of actual existence and presence.
I retract my hand and find it to be intact, disappointingly lacking in any kind of mutation extraterrestrial, corporal or otherwise. This all just is and it seems as insignificant as the moment I encountered it but in its attempt to blend itself into the construct of my reality it gives away its presence. If this doesn’t make sense now it will later.
Then I stepped into the obsidian pool within a melangerie of what can only be a personal reflection of what reality and life might indeed be: A process of fragmented Unity, a crack in the fabric of the Perfect, like a fault in a flawless diamond, looking into it you must define the imperfection to realise that it exists in a perfect state.
There is nothing else there but the all, fragmented, the entirety of life a result of a mistake, but absolutely consummately excellent in its integrity, ubiquitous in its nature, the same for every single thing, person or idea that ever happened. It all Is with no ‘because’. A causeless state of singularity experiencing itself within each of us.
Who is writing this shit anyway? Sometimes I read back the things I have documented and question their origin but all these concepts, all these ideas and notions are eating me up inside to the point of eruption.
The Black Sun, the Singularity, the Point of Convergence, a place in my head that I prod at more and more as Death roams the streets. A Black Hole walking, consuming everything, families, lives, loves and children; the Horsemen ride as their star rises
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