|Ever tried to look for a picture of nothing, but at the same time, something?|
Wednesday, 11 April 2012
When souls attack... fighting back
It goes without saying that most of us are sick to death of our frikkin' alternate selves gallivanting through all parallels of existence, damaging the reputation of our purer than pure souls. Right? I mean, when all is said and done, there can only be one soul. So what happens when two corporeal selves actually physically touch (and I know, like me, you've spent many a sleepless night wondering just that)?
And what would happen in the metaphorical 'sorting office' if your evil other kills you, will your soul go the right place... the appropriate afterlife? Well this experience I had last night has the answers to that and more - although I have no idea why my alternate self chose to suddenly materialise in my bed; I didn't know whether to be flattered or frightened. This tiny stand-alone chapter of prose (isolated from the regular styling of Warped Mirrors, a paranormal comedy) is one of two, the second, near the end of the book, a spoiler). So, come, come fly with me through the universe and find out what's there... or not.
Silence. I find myself simply being in some natural state amid an endless environment, bottomless, no up, no down, simply direction all around. Freezing, scorching, everything in-between, but yet I do not suffer; I am not burning, nor I am cold, for I am part of it. Floating, soaring, sentient, everywhere at once, and yet nowhere at all, my spirit delivering me both to where I have, and haven’t been. But not for much longer; time, of which there is none, is running out; Divine Intervention losing His tolerance; tranquil infinity bored with such humanly concept. Omnipotent, yes, for in this present I am one with everything that exists and that does not, has once been, but yet to become. Nothing, where I am, not even I, yet I am rich; own all that is not corporeal. No one thing here that can contain any other, yet still they do. And then I see them; magnificent colourful spheres, invisible, so beautifully patterned, remotely scattered within folds of seamless, infinite and intricately weaved fabrics of space, time and dimension, painted by hands of gods, hitherto unimagined vistas. And I am in control, at least for now, master of sorts, a god myself of this divergent realm; the energy encompassing me, obeying the command of simple thought, traversing me through a vast container fashioned simply from all that I am, until it emerges me in some other galaxy, a place, that too, is part of me, or I it. And as I knew it would, it looked exactly as I had always known, even though I had never seen it before in any lifetime. And the solitary planet shimmers luminously; red, amber, green, and above all others, implores me to become a part of it. For I can be, I already am. Entrancing, it is, but entrapping, pitiful, inviting. I don’t want to go, and I won't, though I will arrive in less than an instant, or never in this eternity. But as alluring as it might be, as ensnaring, I will leave if I do; for I can; yes, I am in control of the stellar chariot that draws me towards it - at least for now; stronger than the impostor, I know. Soaring within it, motionless, yet speedily, leisurely, willingly, hesitantly, hurtling towards both a place of euphoria and, perchance, of eternal damnation, if I don’t. A place impossible to comprehend in my waking state, conceived of, perhaps, but impeded by human limitation. And it is as well, for we should not know. I see that now. Beings that lived, that died, burning, thriving, hostile, beguiling, insisting that I befall unto them to be less than all I can be or more than I am. But still, this moment is not mine. Yes, I have a choice, for this celestial crossroad is not my eternal walk home.