± H13.com - Archives - November 2009
november 2009

the dream2:29am sunday, 29th november
time is the dream
without which i would be scattered throughout creation
to hold in the hand a few precious seconds
and to let go entire lifetimes
i have been in this place before
just like this: to say goodbye, goodbye
or did i imagine it all?

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Demon12:12am wednesday, 25th november
I have seen my personal demon. As in, the actual outline in my mind’s eye of a fallen angel, that kind of demon. I don’t know if I can get a clearer picture of it, for what I saw was much an abstraction of evil; but really, I don’t know if I really want a better representation of what it is. It looked strange, like a vibrating red darkness, and I got a bad vibe from it in general. In my worldview, that demon is real, or as real as need be, the sum total of that which turns me on the wrong paths, when it can. Of late, it has not been doing that much in those directions, but I must admit that it has had some successes. The angels, too, who showed it to me, these are real enough too, all that would make me a noble example of a human being. Very much is my psyche a battle between the forces of good and evil of which I have become entangled. To the victor, the spoils, and in this conflict, the spoils would be me...
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Crush1:57am saturday, 21st november
I don’t know what it is. I’ve been on again off again with the cold medicine, only when I have symptoms do I imbibe, but the day after, or maybe the next day, I come down with a crushing depression. Really, it’s hard to get anything done. What the heck is this? Is it really that I’ve recently been pining away for the ex-girlfriend who broke up with me a year and a half ago? Yeah, I’ve been thinking about her, but it’s like she’s broken up with me like on every other day. I’ve come down from cold medicine highs before, and it was never this bad. Yet somehow I still might believe that this is all chemically induced, not really having to do with psychology. I wonder what the heck this is. And if there is some therapy for it, that does not take more time in the day than I have to spare...
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secret2:27am tuesday, 17th november
in the whispering wind the murmur of the stones
the dreaming holds my hand as i float in the river of time
fire is a memory, all that is is the airy mention of the world
deeper into mystery i go, imagining myself not to exist at all
what looks out these eyes no more than a metaformality
this hour may change the world and none would know
what i have done is a secret, especially to myself

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Hell12:28am friday, 13th november
In the past, I have seen a very sanitized version of Hell. Just enough hopelessness to let you know that you weren’t aboveground. It was in a dream, and it was almost in terms of a video game. There was a path to follow, and things were around me like game pieces, objects of various polyhedral design, posted into squares that fit in the 3-D game board. But as I followed the floor tiles, I came upon a dead end, then to discover upon looking back that every path I followed here was a dead end. This was the essence of Hell: where there is no hope anymore. And thereupon I awoke, realizing what that must have been, the meaning of the vision... Or perhaps this was not the actual place at all, that what I was viewing was merely the proximity where the reality began to twist in the forms of the damned. Like a gravity around the nether world... Or perhaps it was just a dream, as meaningless, and as meaningful, as any other.
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garlands1:38am monday, 9th november
garlands of drifting dream adorn the night
notions of the secret meanings hover in time
flowers from the beginning of creation finally bloom
the clock rests on its hands, itching to lift off
for the dance of destiny shakes free from the trees
life begins and life ends, and some are wiser
to forget ourselves in the doing of wonder

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burning bush2:56am thursday, 5th november
the burning bush revealed secrets i can never speak of
the nature of time is more an unfolding than like a river
and in the dreaming the world it ended only yesterday

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Solids12:01am sunday, 1st november
Sometimes, all that is solid in this world seems so flimsy. I remember the one earthquake I was in when I lived in San Francisco; it was short and not very violent, but the thing I noticed: the shaking made the floor and walls seem as if they were made of cardboard... What is it that truly matters in all that exists? What is the true solid? Or am I looking for the wrong thing, I ask myself? For the softest things perhaps are the most genuine foundations: love, and faith. Maybe it is merely that I am alone the thing I lament, needing an object of love, and a fellowship of faith. Purpose sometimes feels overplayed. My life is chasing after shadows, paradoxically to find what is real. Sometimes to find I am the first down these roads, and must it be that I am the candle that lights the way.
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