I .
"Soil, such a modest melody. It sings forth giants from the sands. And within her womb, among the vermin, the mother’s tethers gently grip the single seedling. There is ice betwixt the hoarfrost, growing. And ever the infinitely patient leviathans know nothing but the sun. Not cold, nor warmth, nor hunter’s ax. "
II.
In husk, the daily tasks exceed all burdensome father Time. His excellent montage of insignificant pessimisms only light the way towards more comical ironies. And the ignorance of a conical organ only fires the fuse of experience. What an extravagant waltz is the movement of a car through
three dimensional space, and the only true experience in an iron merkaba is the impact of its shell against a cedar pole. A pole which provides the fuel for a black-hole tube, (How impossible, but exceedingly probable?) which tears all hope of creativity from their automaton genesis. It is inevitable that one such automaton wishes to become a patient Goliath. Where even an ax is only to be feared by those taking refuge within the confines of its hollow interior. An interior, though literally hollow has much more
to share with those truly hollow. Hollows which are but metaphorically hollow. And I am an insect
within the world. (My exoskeleton.) It protects me from the vileness of the outside. Though rumination
seems much more a murderer than the spider. And I guess we are all spiders as well. Cannibalistic, not physically, but with invisible venom , twice as deadly as the widow.
III.
We constantly gnaw on the fabrics of each other, just as the moth child gains it’s strength through poison dyed cotton. But lo, no mothballs will scatter the zombies of the twilight away from my windows. Their blank-eye stares a reminder of their
purpose: To guide themselves ever closer to the bright sun. How I wish it would pierce their eyes, leaving them as disposed as a wingless fly within a child’s hands. An infinite example of an infinite brutality. An irony fit for the very reptilian brains which still harbor a not-so-faint resolve. A resolve worthy of mention by Darwin. Who’s child-like mind first exposed our saneness as insanity. His idea of the savage garden made us apes accepting of our horrors. And as such, like beasts, we’ve grown to accept this pessimistic viewpoint. We devour ourselves until we become black holes. We are as lions; a child lamb within the jaws, a tiny babe within the belly. The only thing similar is the ouroboros, only it cannot give birth to more perfect circles.
IV.
It is a sad and dreadful life within a cocoon. I pray to peek beyond the silken eye-prison, but it is as if the sun is now my enemy. Ever closer my eyes wander, towards the edge of such a soft and absorbent gossamer enclosure. But before they even reach the outer layer, a voice of abstract reason (a quite wise and delicate tug), rends me ever backwards. A prevention of sorts it is. And I give in to such a tyrannous command because I believe it right and true. The outside is no place for for a tunneler such as I.
V.
Curious minds and ever curiouser hands beg to remove my wings half-grown. I am accepting to the tantalizing qualities of discovery the little ones receive from such an intricate act. I once tried to pry them off myself, only to realize the futile attempt it was. To reach my metaphorical abdomen is a feat within itself. And I am so tired. And the process of discovery too tedious a task.
VI.
The world I peek through to has all of the knowledge the current model automaton requires. The lessons are structured quite sanely despite the content. Every thirty or so minutes another person offers their services as degree-less teachers, but that’s besides. The scholars gather 'round the instructors, and a frenzy ensues. Laugher, eager ears, and realistic sympathy are quite scattered and often repeated. But what is so fascinating is the medium through which they interact. A glass and metal box bounces sound waves off of the walls. Their ear-hammers thunder with what seems to be a meaning. But it is futile, for what seems to be a coated truth is indeed as a gift-box as hollow as the creatures with the eager ears. So eager are their ears that they remain as slaves gathering rye in fields, but fields endless, still. As endless as their ever expanding knowledge. They are but the only creature under the eye of Jupiter that actually forms knowledge. They cannot for a moment realize that the world is truly without knowing. Nothing needs the symbols and sounds to see or hear the rustling spice wood. They name is so though, as do us all.
VII.
I shudder as the sun does every eleven years. Casting off one chrysalis for another. And just as the sun sheds its arches with their instruments, my next skin forms upon the ambrosia of my quiet cavern. I have seen the mighty
thunder drip like milk into the soil. The thunder is discarded, for they know now it is not so much a holy drumming than a reaction in the sky. Ignorant in infancy, and grows with knowledge with the seasons. But I see only wisdom a proper and extremely truthful end to the species. Without end though, will there ever be a wise end? I certainly hope so, or I will stay coiled within forever.
VIII.
In white they waltz around lighted rooms, enchanted, the not so patient patient is within between their opinions and her own. I’ve seen this many times before. Their words are caustic, and pierce like lead shells shot from killing machines. (Yes they are machines of steel crafted for the sole purpose of killing other machines, how ironic!) They have definitions too. They define a mind as being sick only when the organism deviates from their programming. “It must be a virus, the system is rarely operational.” Says the white male in the white jacked in the white room of the white building. It’s false purity, it really is. Within a place of healing yields far more agony than relief. But we must remember that in agony there is a future relief. I find much more solace in my white cocoon, for I perceive this place much more healing than a structure of green Goliaths. I must keep reminding myself of this. It is entirely dire, and absolutely vital.