the consciousness concerto (the poem)

light descends
its quantum slope to solid matter;
particles and waves go frozen
to the space of time;

no rhyme, no reason,
just a quark of fate
in that

an atom turns to granite

and then ascends
in some organic movement
back towards light.

the vegetation, dna,
an animated circus of emotion.

this is the symphony of consciousness
we’ve just begun to hear;
it’s humming in our ears,
we are the humming in our ears.

our own descent
into the knot of physical
and psychic co-identity
beginning to untie itself
begins its own ascent:
not this, not this, not this!

like sunlight latent
in the grain of angel oak,
we burn!

the flame shall see it’s not the kindling;
the flame shall know that it’s the fire.

the world is burning
on the altar of our eyes;
awareness is the fuel
and self-awareness is the fire.

this life is but a speck of ash
arising in the smoke of mind;

not this, not this, not this!

i am the fire before
there was this flame i am;
i am the light before
this nuclear explosion
called self-consciousness
exploded in
i am—

not this, not this, not this;
no, yes, i am…that.

unimaginable and void,
nothing without the nothing,
no word, no form, no sound,
not even no, but knowing,
yes, no space, no time,
no substance—
emptiness,
the w/hole;

holy, holy, holy,
that is all.

whyever

space is my canvas and time is my brush.

consciousness is not only always fully expanded already, it creates its own expanse.

consciousness is whatever it wants to be but whatever it wants to be isn't it. tag, you're it!

holier than that.

whyever.



when i understand, it is the universe that understands.

as real estate is all about location, reality is all about negation: negate, negate, negate.

complete negation equals full stop, and there you are.

there is no original sin, just that original thought: i am.

the doorway to no way is one way.