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| Cosmic Artist By Alex Grey |
Gently down the stream of consciousness
Merrily merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a dream ♪
Out of the skull of illusions comes the brain; and once that is gone, there is nothing; a mere void, a trifling pretense of something that was once there, something that occupied space and time and preoccupied time and space; but now neither exist except for then. Then when there was once a skull filled with a brain utilized in this thing called life that now no longer exist; but was once existent then; then whence attached to a body. And oh of the body, 'what was that'; a thing clothed in skin, wrapping the bones that encased the skull and trapped the heart in a cage. And what is this of the heart, given literary significance of painful sorrow and joy, when but the heart is just a organ, it beats neither for you nor me. Simply an instrument beating to the rhythm of the lungs. And what is it of lungs but repetitive cycles of filtered pollutants; perhaps even recycled atoms of once upon a 'what was that'. Oh but air, without such there'd be nothing; no gamma waves, no beats, nor sighs; just layers of lifeless flesh, once upon a body. Now a corpse slowly decomposing, awaiting for the dust to settle or burnt remnants of shattered ashes to clear the air. Merely, practical particles; atoms degeneratively converging toward another and yet another form, in a endless loop of looking back wondering,'what was that'; of the skull, of the thing the skull encased, of the flesh, of the caged heart, of the polluted lungs, of the circulating air. Until at long last; thought itself becomes but a thing once thought; unaware that any of this, 'what was that'; convoluted conversation perhaps once existed. Oblivious, forevermore; evaporated into the abyss of never ending nothingness. Having ever so
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| Creation of Atom by Natalie Doud |
Author: Jeane Michelle Culp (ndpthepoetress)
© #922-3-z6-118710-4
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