A storm of color roars, thunderous applause; in high metronomes in what can only be described as a pleasent resonance with ones senses. A thought is given life, it’s purpose laid clear.
Light pours through solid object like water as it streams through stone both large and small, penetrating all without force, bending but never breaking in an endless journey to which there seems to be no ultimate destination. This potential is reality, it’s limits are true illusions, it’s motion, perpetual.
Almost as if an enchanting cosmic hymnal is sung throughout the stars, with authority and reverance, calling to praise the divine order and grand scale of the intricate tapestry laid for one to see in the night sky. This is the fundamental rulling of all things created, heard from as far as the endless beckoning void to the ever expanding firmament.
A vision of you sitting by a wooden bench, arms tucked into your bosom at the mercy of the elements in obedience around you, creatures both grand and meagre journey about you in similitude to your own sense of wonder and perplexity, singing in tongues unknown. Can this lexicon hope to remind you of your essence, is not your sense of self a wonderful illusion. Is a creature; less a creature with one less limb?
Words and their likeness come forward in strings of truth, dancing in the theatre of sound. Displacing you from their original purpose, to relay experience shared by a common understanding that individuals could accept and embrace. Is poetry merely fine literature, too abstract to be taken objectively, are dreams any less real because only you saw it?
The soul desires to hold, nay; cling to experiences it’s traverses through, gathering and storing potential dreams in the hopes that one day it will expell these desired burdens into a place of it’s own belonging. There has never truly been an integer as unique as the numeral 1, that all others are mere collections of this singular axiom, this is fundamental.
When visions assault your psyche in ways you cannot ascribe to words, what hope have you to relay your experience and emotions to others, how little grasp you have over language, how deeply do you yearn to bring to fruition this truth of yours so that another can see. When will ones thoughts truly transcend language? Is an organism any more unique than another, in that it’s journey is not utterly parallel with everything else.
If every experience one can administer is unique to every other, and everyone around you has their own silent experience than can it be assumed that in this vast ocean of time shared by moments fleeting, that time is merely; memory encoded.
Gasp ‘Damn them i’m late’ You hurrily put together your papers on advanced quatum applications; “Where’s my phone” you ask, gently nudging as to not abruptly wake Lorraine the love of your life. After a momentary pause and inaudible mumble from her, you realise how precious she is as she slumbers before the rise of dawn.
You remove the covers off your lap and sit on the side of your bed; groggy over the longwinding dream you had. ‘Today is the big day, hopefully my presentation goes to plan…‘ you look up to see that Lorraine had prepared your suit near the bedroom door hanging in clear sight, you sigh in relief, remembering that she had prepared your morning commute for you as though she had the foresight that you would most definately be scattered this morning.
Dark blue hues illuminate your hallway, and a cold shrill air permeates your body as you shiver and open your bathroom door. “Alexa lights on please”… The lights power on brightly then tone down as to not harshly illuminate your tiled surroundings.
Entering the shower you twist the hot water knob 2 parts right and the cold water 1 part right, the water refreshing you as though you had just recently been exhumed from the grave. The bathroom fan looming above you like some surreal upside down drain drinking the moisture upwards into the plastic lattice.
“Suger i found your phone!” You hear Lorraines voice muffled through the noise of the shower, “Yes Honey, where was it!” No response, you finish your shower turn the water handles off and hop out of the glass cabinet, grabbing your clothes to take them out the bathroom and head towards the dryer.
“Alan” Lorraine gently lays hands on your arm beckoning to take the clothes off you “I prepared you breakfast and coffee…” she looks you in the eyes, just recently awoken, hair in a messy bun “Go ahead have breakfast i’ll take care of these”… you smile as though you are consistently reminded how wonderful a friend and wife Lorraine has been to you “No really, it’s ok, i thought i was late but the sun hasn’t even risen, go take our breakfast to the lounge room, i’ll be there in a second” and just before you can turn to head towards to laundry Lorraine perks up and says “I’ll need to have a shower first!”
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