New Blog. Cambrian Prime Tumblr RIP (2011-2013)
East of Eden
I’m far out from shore, the beach of this island. The water keeps deciding between warm hums of waves and frigid streams of icy neglect. I’m still close enough to swim back to land. Back to paradise. Adrift now as the last company of light leaves me, alone in the dark uncertain waters. I could swim back but I don’t. Every moment pulls me away just more and more, eventually passed that threshold where I am no longer of the island’s influence, and under currents stamp their dangerous, primordial claim on me. Offering me to that wide-mouthed abyss; directionless, perceivably infinite and unfamiliar, with only a world I can never belong to, awaiting me under the surface. My body wants to swim back, while there’s time, every second demands more effort, distance is fed and increasingly strengthen. I could and should go back to paradise. But I know the truth. I know why action won’t support thought, why the membranes of each nerve cell won’t respond to the screams in my head, as crushing as these far waves, I know who I am and what I can do. I know, though paradise home may be, Its not one I deserve. I simply take and take from the land, I dry out its resources and offer no maintenance. There is no synergy, I do not live with it, with the core of my essence existing parallel and synchronized with the nature of eden. Without a god to expel me, I still must go. I must be exiled. Afloat, my chest and head facing back as the many hands of the surf push me away. This is a place for someone willing to be one with that nature, who can submit himself wholly, without compromise and still functioning under insistence of his purest will.
M8 Lagoon and M20 Trifid Nebula by jccjmurphy on Flickr.
(Source: iliveinaspiralgalaxy, via moon-blood-deactivated20140618)
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BOWIE AND WALKER HEAT
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Approaching Aurora
In the abyss which dews the morning haze, cloak for all in the alluding fade, I keep stillest vigil for the distant steps as delicate as harp plucks. I note the motionlessness of the pale sky, livid with innocence. I hear the muffled impression of sudden definition, approaching the lens, into focus with its shadow bent apart, full of its own gravity and thus physics–A thing on the verge, always, of being. At that cool edge, statue palms and pupils, heavy with patience and anticipation, they shift in subtle inflections of excitable bursts. Never here or there but mimes between gestures, unreachable ghosts that stain the bones with desire. I watch between the air, breathless and suspended through the minute cracks of exhales and pulse; as still as the night sky may portray a star, which may have already disintegrated far before its light could ever find our admiring eyes.
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26 Letters of the Logos
One of my explanations of God is that the entire universe is like a universe of written language. There’s works of literature, including novels, plays, poems, but there’s also correspondence letters, graffiti, texts, blogs, notes, lists, newspaper print, street signs, directions, etc. And just because its the language in which I’m writing this post, let’s say that language is English. This universe of written english language is without an exception subject to the 26 letters that each word must contain at least one member to be a word that is then combined and organized with other words to make phrases, sentences, conversations, and so forth. The relationships may be intricate and the grammar, like physical laws may govern to a degree a standard of common understanding but there is no denying the 26 letters of the alphabet are the creative drinking well from which all words originate. If our universe was the written language of English, God would be the 26 letters of the alphabet.
I do not have a religion and I do not believe that these 26 letters need the worship or love of its produced language. In fact, the existence of the language is the celebration of the 26 letters. Imagine a God who’s only paid tribute is every and anything you do, good or bad because you exist and in existing, uniquely as a never again repeated phenomena, you as an individual are something the universe learns about itself.
At the core of language, we create words for ideas that require attention, that seem vital to existence, words for hunger, affection, danger, fear, protection, joy. The fact that certain languages have unique words to only their own language is a window into their culture and what’s important to those people. Through 26 letters, the written universe explains to itself its own identity.