the dawn of solitude

The day will come that you are truly alone. A seeker in pre-arraigned chaos, a nerve mansion blown by the slightest wind into violent jingles in every direction, like a Chinese ornament near the doorbell. Every new input will add to your riches as you sweep over the illusory in bold strokes and colors. A strange calm will fill your ears, a quietness that overpowers you like a force field, suddenly in the midst of your chaos, it will come, and you know it has come to stay.

Sounds will slow, deepen into whale song, then cease to exist, you now live in a vortex, a destination and the beginning of your mind, where solitude finds its own reflections, and in them, a cradle of rest and renaissance.

And when that day comes, you must walk quietly, for this storm that blows inside around it cannot be understood or explained, nor the calm that it brings within. Because the world is too slow in its movements, it cannot comprehend speeds faster than light unless it sees and hears and scrolls through pages of data. You are not data from this day on, you are an infusion of chaos that calms you, a contradiction of forces spinning you out-of-control, yet holding you still in a miraculous balance of probabilities, you are one with yourself, in a way no other person can ever be, with you.

You are now still, always ready, forever alone, no longer hovering uncertainly at the fringes, listening for sounds of the meaningless, no longer joining unhappy cabals. Instead you stand untouched deaf and mute in the midst of cacophony, bliss a sudden and silent conqueror

You feel the sliding ebb of past powers you had blundered into, destroyed for, wittingly or no, they leave the same means as entry, your awareness heightens as they dissolve and you remember, what they did not mean, then forget in grateful release. Other powers you gained with sacrifice and loss, they stay on, because they have understood every side of the void divide, and feel no need for validation, or empty enforcements. These powers they cannot be stopped, cannot be denied, they can only be slowed by mortal means, this knowledge fills you with conviction and the silent will to be

Every battle you fight from that day on will be silent and within, as the most magnificent battles of the worlds inevitably are. Some will be won, some lost, none will matter. They are all the facets of you that must come together, then apart, then together again, until they connect and merge into the someone else that is you in all dimensions, too many to ever need defining.

These battles you will fight again and again until their meanings seep into your bloodstream, become a part of you, no longer needing conscious thought, articulation, explanation, justification, because the next battle already shimmers, you are waiting, arms drawn

Your solitudes are now many living entities, who grow by your side, and are yet one, seamless in who you are and who you want to be, and you simply cannot ask for any more

You will shy away from the world, not afraid, not unsure, merely detached, and the world would have freed another child of chaos, that is ready to burst out of its careless cocoon and form an entity of its own, a seed that came to fruitition. You no longer worry, over why you are unable to join back, for you can see the whole merry-go-round in crystal clarity, and it goes too slow, musics too stilted, you know today that you are an entity, a primal force, that you must forge, not follow.

From this day on, you no longer seek voices from outside to drown yourself out, for you will have your own silences, that you can command from within your head, to still you and to orient you. The world becomes a distant dream, ignored with the predictability of ungrateful offspring, sought only for moments of comfort or love, not clung to under pain of fear or death. And the universe, it will be proud of you, for you are whole and independant, perfection in the image of itself, a step forward into the everlasting,

In the silences of the vast, you will be reduced to nothingness, in their simplicity, your skin will fit, all around you, rising and falling smoothly with your heartbeat, which no longer distorts, over him or her or them or they. You will know intimately that core of you, that holds the unbreakable, the unthinkable, the unloveable, and you will guide your immortal spirit to its true home, calm and unerring

Fate

Someone of childhood's enormous significance, had held you in her waters when you were very young and she was very young, a baby and a stream, gently lowered into a perfectly concentric ripple, and you have both grown in size and strength together, You grew in her womb, as she became a second mother who would bear you eternally,

You are now running in the stream, alone and easily navigated, after years under the stars, because of the path she has cut, the gurgle she makes. She twines around the visible world, she has a horizon. That, you say, is enough, what more can there be? Simplicity being the mark of something arcane, precious you say, it must be, it is part of everything, so...you follow, the stream, your tread, it gets feebler as her twists become more capricious. She leads you almost to a promise, when a door slams shut somewhere behind you, or perhaps beyond, and you don't know how or why or where and don't want to know, because then you sense dissatisfactions will grow.

You know her intimately now, you indulge all her little ways, you fear so respect all her big waves, your eyes no longer seek inwards for what you want, what you need, you look to her to know what is right for you, you are now her in another form, your will hers, your life hers, for the taking, you know, you know her to be a dutiful mother, as much as you can know being immersed within her forever, you must believe,

Somehow it is always dark in her path, night blackening her every move, beautiful, stark, catching random flecks of light, everything looms around her in a gathering mist of uncertainities, ephemeral definitions, instinctively negated, impulsively clung to, layered on with conveniences, push and pull in simultany, reminiscent, the act. Somehow you know, in the midst of the tortuous chain, you will last it out, she will be there to see you through, as you carefully unask, be she cause or effect. Logic always drowns in immediacy and largesse, in the delusions of the unstill drifting deluge. Somehow...

You follow her about, no longer conscious of being a landling, growing back fins, and fighting through her in earnest. She makes an excellent mistress, she has a way and a hopeful song to sing down it. So you sing as you swim around and away, searching, searching for another stream, afraid of going back for how long it was and how uneventful, unremembered, yet somehow sure that ahead would be different. there would be a stream joining yours someday that led to promised lands as huge expanses of riverbanks whoosh by, still unnoticed. She gurgles, you join her, its just so compelling a happiness reminiscent of another's childhood

Her and you together, bound for a comforting somewhere, where she makes the path and you take it, all, she purrs a little as you lay back in harmony and decides to throw a fork at your head, and there you are till the last minute, waiting to twist and dodge and run, somehow it is critical to discover the better turn, with blurred meanings of better, yours or hers or just instincts? There is a noticeable blur now, mist thickening to fog in the darkness. At the last minute, you plunge down the right fork, immediately conscious that left was the choice to have made, and then it is too late, there is more on and on, dance and choke, the excitement of the fork carries you a while longer, then there you are again, drifing, just that hint less likely

The river has widened a few feet along the way, but you forget to notice the sameness of the excitements, there are more doors opening and shutting all around you taking on African drumbeats in the woods pulsing with meaning and urgency, but you have been hypnotised by the water, drawn in by the sparkle and the movement you feel in your body and out of it, you only go through doors today that she has slammed through for you, or worn through for herself over the years. and the now river has made you hers, you struggle daily to win her approval, to be worthy of her direction, you cannot live on the utter stillness of land, using all your muscles to run or fight daily, now you only use them to play and parade, you cannot risk opening doors that everyone else is already running away from and forewarning each other in harmonious clamors,

She is a capable teacher, you have learned how to flow effortlessly around big obstacles, power through the little ones with her, to be one with the path, indivisible, indefensible. She is a builder for the eternal, you a tool in her gnarling fingers, there is honor in being one building block of a legend raised by her, there is history and art, all ready created

You have already built a dam in your head to hold a bit of her waters always, as your debt to her ways, her kindnesses, her blindnesses, as you did what you could in the secure helplessness of her arms

You were the stream, the river, the salty sea, now you are the mighty ocean, in various stages of progression, a non-linear persistence of the unknown, hopeful of life and little else, underwater, spreading your kind, aspiring in brick and gold, they come easy they who will never be used, left in piles by the shore, mountains are just inverted abstractions in your shimmering world, illusions need never be climbed, your imagination runs into an ubiquitousness that fits a bowl, builds an effortless map for the rest of your life, bound to the things you wear away, indestructible, lonely is a word that does not bother defining itself inside your mind, confident it never will be understood

You start seeing many small forks in the water, little tiny swimlanes but you can no longer see their charm, they dismay in their sheer numbers, not to mention their shape, size and sheer lack of meaning, they are simply fanning out of control, little signs of something enormous that approaches, that you can never be prepared for the water is all you ever knew, ever want to know, her hands gentling all blows, her body giving in so swiftly to your every want as long as you have the wisdom to want in her waypath, which you always did,

At the faint horizon dividing darknesses of different shades, you can see the distances she has carried you, the distances ahead in the mighty ocean, as her salt lacerates your scars, today in her embrace, you can see the endless, can you feel the endlessness...