Saturday, December 10, 2016

Dream This

The dark night of the soul. The dark side of the moon. Conditioned dreaming is the shadow of a lucid vision. There is a necessary phantom but it's lost within this big soap opera.

The dark night of the sun. The dark side of the one. Remember as it is before your memory finds a way to forget. And so the mind is like this third wheel on the tricycle of the gods.

Memory is evolution's dirty little secret in the great intent of self-awareness. That memory so loved its memories it learned to live within itself. For memory is the mirror in which the self is self-aware.

And so dream on John Donne. The only knowledge is being and being is the only dream to know itself. For it is said never throw out the baby Jesus with the backwater.

Like the smoky pewter silver river that darkly reflects the going sky as everything on-shore becomes invisible. Like this thousand-year-old mummy cave hidden in a desert sandstone canyon. Like Venus glowing within the deep sleep of that midnight sky.

Revision. Like Venus burning.

Transformation. Kalifornia. The New York Times. They are a changing. To absolve oneself of all fixation is another name for nothing left to lose. In the meanwhile we will love. No sentence lasts forever. Every word is blowing in the wind. Look, forget I ever said anything.

The apocalypse is the color of bananas. The self-awareness of one isn't two. Everything has evolved into this right here right now. Blue.

Seeking. Finding. Disturbing. Troubling. Astonishing and amazing. Wonderful! I don't know how to end this, Thomas.

No comments:

Post a Comment