Self-stealing Singularityoriginal writing and art
In a dream I come upon a field
wide-flecked by wild flowers,
breathed upon by light unreal
so neon glows the happy bowers.
Sentinels along the prairie edge
whisper druidic truths
and I float over e'er-pristine sedge
under the yawning roof
of colorless dream-sky.
Harmonies unheard outside of sleep
sound in my inner ear;
Layered, multifaceted, angelic,
Singers, none I see, concluding firm
yes, it must be the earth herself
raising gold voice unto the heights
to conjure change by sultry rites
woven in choruses of song.
"Widen the strand, lay open the place
Where one may pass through billowing space
to visit new worlds, and transcend time
now singular make this void through rhyme."
The gaze naturally averted from the tiny trefoil core of the singularity, which seemed to be generating the magneto-gravitic field causing disruptions in the local environment. Even the color started going out of the world, and it was less that the singularity stole hues as that it erased in the memory the existence of the idea of color.
I thought for a moment, which broke me out of the awed reverie in which I had been witnessing the portal. Some magnet in my chest hurtled me towards unbearable brilliance. I saw, in grotesque suddenness, the earth transfigured into my countenance — there, my brow of moss and oak, there my puddled eyes. There and there my ears and nose of boulders, lips — a magmic pool.
The orb became my own: my ajnic eye, with nature's color stolen. Lashed, unblinking, seeing not — but witnessing, observing all. In dream-gesture's equivalent of a shrug I let the paradox play out — and I was swallowed by that stolid, wise, unblinking eye. Right before my selfhood vanished, I recalled, so strange: an amber-tinged mahogany against the monochrome.
created by @d-pend to be published on blockchain on
------------------------------March 28, 2020------------------------------