BROTHER ELI ADDRESS THOSE WHO HAVE GATHERED
When you hear the sounds of new experiences arriving, do you shut your ears, lock the doors, and hope by distractions to keep unknowns at bay?
It’s challenging enough perceiving all of this world wonders. When all our sensory inputs are dialed down to zero, when all we hear is a low blue noise, when our vision becomes only starring oncoming headlights, when touch, smell, and taste become a similar numb, where will we stand?
Perhaps all that remains is the a conceptualized fully encompassing dark blue void. Where all thought and beloved memories sail to differing unknown shores. Where exists naught but awl. There will remain no expectations.
No memories. Neither wins nor losses. No superficial pain. No recalled agonies. Gone are bothersome itching limbs, along with departed friends and family.
Bruises. All bruises will dissipate. Those constant minor irritants projecting us from one location in time to the often following site. Lesser things. Editorial selection. Close-ups, decidedly not panoramas.
Such minuscule egos. No tightrope walkers they. Fear preceding confidence excepted only as victory assumed. Never confident in abilities. Only in outcomes. Perhaps for victory within the game. But never to design a board.
Blue. Or must it be blue? Or red? Yellow? Or chartreuse? To tell the truth?
Only existing as it comes to exist. Ne’er before nor since. And then not.
To return to blue.
All blue.
Or nothing. Or anything. Or most. Some of something or nothing of naught.
So, there’s no blue. Must be the last hope. Something in the nothing. Blue is the nothing. Can nothing be something simply by being called nothing? The concept of nothing is certainly something. So there is no blue.
There is no nothing. But the concept of no nothing does not bring something from the non-nothing.
We exist here now. Focused on what is. What will come. As long as senses to perceive endure and minds to assimilate.
Looking to the future, myths are created. Cheap fictions redesigning ancestral tales. Create while you can. The killers are out there. Dance on their graves.
