The map is not the territory

“Who rules our symbols rules us.” Alfred Korzybski

They can only hear echoes.  Flashes of light, dripping water, their feet chained to the ground as they slowly shuffled on, with no goal except deeper darkness.  They continue wiping the light of crushed wings from their hands but it does not fade.  Without questioning they shuffle on, directionless,  in a breathless, blinded silence.  She basks in the freedom of the beat of her heart above them.  They no longer look to the sky, their gaze never rises from the movement of their feet.  She sheds a tear which unleashes a torrential downpour upon their heads.  Stars shoot by her head and through her arms as she clutches the crescent of the moon beneath her foot.   She remembers the power still held within her hands, in one swipe  she once again feels what beats inside of her.  Through the shadows and in between the beats of the moon swaying beneath her feet, she sees a man sitting atop the globe of the earth, raising and lowering his hands as countries are created and disappear.  The shadows existing in his own mind only as digits, once living breathing things, now being sold at the tips of his fingers.  Information the only currency he ever knew.  Bought and sold, traded, gambled upon, lives in ruins, lives now existing only as shadows.  The same shadow which drove him.  The laughter in the background thunders on as pockets are filled with useless paper and life remains defined by the struggle of all those on top, with their boots deeply planted upon the heart of all the shadows flowing throughout the universe.  The cries subvert his consciousness from deep within.  The shadow that helped him forget the evil he does in the name of progress, in the name of normality, disappears.  He ignored her voice.  Since he was a boy he let it breeze by, forgotten in the wind, drowning in the rustle of the leaves.  The world became the pictures he mapped it out as and for everyone else without question, became the only thing they saw.  She still never gave up, she did not know how.  His shaking hand grew stronger with every thought, every wave of his hand painting a new picture of what the land below their feet contained.  But what escaped from inside of him could not be contained.  Awakened in deep sweat in the middle of the night, it began to control him, it became the only thing he could see in front of him.  And still the picture he painted was the only reality most could see.  As far as it existed from him, it never truly left.  Shaken by the thoughts overcoming his sight he lie awake at night as the wind continued beating against the window but never got through.  The sound of her voice would whistle by but it only made his hand stronger.  In creation he found life but only as he sold the only thing each number, each shuffling shadow held in the palm of their hands.  He remained secure that they would never see any kind of truth as they were devoured by lies every second of every day.  Still with hands and a slightly beating pulse they could reach for something he did not paint, something he did not plaster with his own facade.  That beat of the wind continues flowing as they shuffle on she reaches for them but they still can’t quite see through the thought that they exist as nothing but numbers.  They wipe their hand upon each shadow in fron of them and they see the faded light, and they remember the wings as they look to the sky, the man quivers in his sleep and cannot close his eyes

Into the Eclipse

“When children attend schools that place a greater value on discipline and security than on knowledge and intellectual development, they are attending prep schools for prison.”  Angela Davis

Split into millions of pieces they no longer have the power to experience their feelings.  The creative impulses flowing through their hands find expression through the chaotic view of kaleidoscopic eyes.  As the crack in their mirror grows, they begin to see the layers underlying it.  They watch their automatic reach for something outside of themselves and they forget what they were here for as the constant need to reach for something becomes their only power.  They begin to see their transformation.  As their hands continue to exist separate from them, their minds grow into the stars and close to what lies festering before them.  Maybe the gentle wind she attempted to guide them with was too subtle given their numbing existence, yet she knew nothing else.  She could not be a father, she could not close their eyes to anything but they still could not open them on their own.  They only saw the darkness they followed, the darkness they were once again becoming as the sight and judgments of the world created their thoughts and their bodies.  They stand at the threshold, armed with only choices, choices they do not wish to make.  As they are pulled into the infinity of their closed thoughts and they reach out for help, no one responds, only darkness, surrounding them, bringing them further into the mind that keeps them inside of the narration that closes them to all their surroundings.  Knowing this, they no longer have a choice to make.  Before their eyes beautiful fluttering wings, shooting shards of light from their base as they float from Her hands.  In beams of light she fades from above them.  They wink their eyes, blinded by the beauty lighting their path.  They reach out, crushing the brightening wings with their grip.   The fading flickering burst of light fades upon their skin.  They can only hear the drag of their footsteps upon the sand, forwarding them to a goal they cannot perceive.  In the wind, Her voice travels by their ears.  Their chains are gone but they still feel them dragging along with their legs.   The voices in their heads become nothing but chatter, disconnecting them from what lies before their eyes.  Their mind focuses on whatever new cracks form in the mirror in their hand.  They follow without question, forgetting where they have come from.  They continue the long walk through drifting sands and broken hearts, trampling on the beat which has brought them here.  They walk through the box and enter their new home, unable to see what unfolds before them but they accept it anyway.  The disconnect forms and they see what they once were, and watch a luminous fog envelope their previous form.  They hear Her voice in the distance- escape-but they fall to the sand covered in darkness, and reach up for the fog, as electrical pulses from the cloud travel up their arms.  They watch their heart continue beating through the screen of the fog.  Their existence here seems much easier, a loss of control gives them quite a bit of comfort as they no longer have to reach, they experience, watch, twitch, convulsing to the bright electrical pulses shooting throughout their bodies, they can do anything but feel as they are separated and can no longer distinguish their bodies from the fog.  The heart, beating inside their minds as they continue watching.  The fog drifts their minds away, as they feel free and their hearts covered in darkness beat along to the dark electric fog, shrouding everything within their sight.  They let go of their control, let go of everything and allow the fog to take them away. As they watch, only watch and hope for a violent explosion to remind them, maybe they exist, split into millions of pieces, they reach out for the box they now exist in, reaching for guidance, reaching for a narrative to center them, but they can only grasp darkness, teaching them all it knows

A roomful of mirrors

“A revolution that is based on the people exercising their creativity in the midst of devastation is one of the great historical contributions of humankind.” Grace Lee Boggs

The shadows walk in confusion, chained to one another, their sight a reflection of their own faces which they cannot see behind.  She towers above them, casting a penetrating light, yet they cannot see the source.  Overcome with the winding flow of hatred for all which appears wrong, they can no longer continue on.  Their feet continue sinking in the sand as they deeply feel what pulses within them.  In blindness they gain their sight.  An eclipse of the sun above, as they slowly watch the color of their skin return.  As they sink deeper into the earth they feel the center, and  begin to see what they can  ascend into; the only life they can gain.  Her guiding hand waves above as her chains gain strength but fade from sight.  In shadows they hold their breath as they look upon their forgotten past, their war torn homes, the confused look on their children’s faces.  The spirit within their hearts grows with each gaze into the heart of their past and for a brief second they see all which has led them to this place.  Pieces of paper blowing in the wind, holding the earth and all life upon a false idea.  An idea which only the mind can transform into reality, falsifying all life.  The longer they looked into the mirrors covering their hands, the more they couldn’t understand this idea, nor could they fathom the addiction to reaching for something, a mirage, shrouding the faces in pain of all those before them.  The power in shards of light begins to appear before their faces.  They once again feel the ability to become the hand which guides them.  From above the woman, bathed in lightness shakes her chains away, dissipating into the wind, becoming the light wind of life.  They look to the sun as the paper which has ruled all of their lives for so long burns into a pile of small suns, entering their hearts and minds, building the strength into their own hands.  They begin to raise themselves from the sand covering their feet. In a smile, the woman above them holds out her arms, touching each one of them.  They walk down the beach still looking into their hands and never forgetting where they have come from.  Their hearts beating along with the wind swaying the waves back and forth, touching their feet, feeling the earth as the paper disappears before their eyes and they only have what continues growing in their hands.  They look to each other, forgetting what lay right by their side, they look to each other and touch their increasingly beating hearts.  They touch each others hands, their mirrors, never their own.  As they touch each other and beat as one, they instantly become what was contained in their own minds.  The illusions which have guided them into their cages becomes a past never forgotten, and always understood.  They see the new day suddenly existing everywhere, their own creation, the reality that can never exist outside of themselves here.  The woman above sheds a tear as she is covered in the ashes of the burning paper although never real, it never completely disappears.  A dark looming shadow bubbling from the earth beneath their feet grows, an infinite darkness which will never let them rest for too long.  As they breathe into their hearts, nothing can touch them here as they raise the sun to the sky and learn of their infinite abilities to create life

One amongst the Lost

“That saving humor of the oppressed!  Under its barrage the great ones totter on their pedestals and fall flat, overbearing as they are, and formidable and absurd as the images they concoct!” Daniel Berrigan

As she floated above it all she at once knew, there is no longer even freedom in flying.  As a net blanketed her, even the light of the moon could not free her.  Her children, lost now more than ever had nowhere to turn as they settled, jailed in their new home.   She looks at them, at their pain and can only travel deeply into her past.  She remembers the time she lay unconscious, lost just like them as he took what she was, in one brief moment, it was all gone.  Forgotten was what her form would become as he swam away into the sunset, protected by the circularity of words, spun until meaning itself can no longer be defined.  Her anger which swelled, tightly subdued by the net with its many holes was easy to see through, but made it impossible to see perceptively.    She asks for no one to feel her pain, she wishes upon them the gift of sight.  She bows as a shooting star, silently lights the sky over her head.  What is forgotten here is responsibility and the refusal of those with power to take responsibility for what their minds have done.  The whole of her body shivers as she thinks of hearing his voice again, how it just didn’t seem quite real.  Maybe she was just a target, her entire body, just another target on a map in the war zone.  Her body was nailed to the sky, the rains come and washes away her pain, but never from her mind, never completely from the skin that was no longer her own.  She doesn’t want it anymore as it is tainted with the thoughts of him, seeing himself as everything, he will be a leader someday, these are the kinds of leaders that are leading the unconscious; through slow torture to their sacrificial deaths. These kinds of people need everything to be a sacrifice to them, it’s all a game by those with the mentality of reptiles, everything is viewed as an enemy.  The blood of the sky, in nuclear sadness falls down to her hands, she refuses to hold it.  She watches it slip through her fingers.  She never knew how to be silent, the wind flows through her, is her as a beam of light, containing everything, bursts forth from her stomach.  She has now learned how to give birth, which is why she is now caged, but a cage cannot hold this back.  She laughs at the idea of power, it is really the only thing anyone can do.  Stars in her hands, she laughs at this cruelty.  On one knee, she looks to the moon, and that man, haunting her every step, reaches for her with eyes of pain and sadness, barely hiding the  evil anymore.  His greyish moon, which somehow gained more power than he, discovers its own orbit.  He attempts to escape its shadow, but it does not exist outside of him as it continues reinforcing his psychotic issues. She thinks maybe evil, or what she thinks is evil, is living in these people, ruling like shadows above us all.  It is easy to point to them, revealing them for the fools they are.  Life frightens them,they can laugh, but cannot really comprehend true experience.  Alas, she would rather not pass judgment upon anyone.  They look at her, through glass walls, nodding their faceless heads in unison.  Planets move when they touch the ground, but it is still fear which controls them, their only motivation, but maybe things are not that simple, they think they’re right, and maybe that is the problem…it still makes her laugh, it is the only thing she still has.  The lost people begin to make their own music as their ability to learn is accelerated by the torture, they constantly endure.  But still the worshippers of death hide from the only thing they refuse to accept…responsibility.  Her cage grows larger but so does her heart and she opens her arms to the world and dances to the music her children are learning to become and she remembers how to fly

 

War of the shadows

There is a war on for her heart but she refuses to acknowledge it as she tiptoes along the clusters of crushed memories calling out for her attention.  Reaching for her, placing unnecessary weight upon her shoulders.  She touches the darkness of her face as she reaches for perspective.  Turn towards the light, something murmurs in her ears.  A lifetime of thought against darkness echoes throughout her, dividing what she is.  She stands up straight, strengthens her stance and remembers briefly the lightness and darkness which has haunted her for so long; she chooses neither.  .A..B…C in an equal line they fall down upon her as she raises her hands up to the sky, bathing in the pinkish hue of the moonlight as the rhythmic ocean waves secure her feet to the earth.  She only hears noise as they attempt to split her right down the middle.  They march in the strange unison of the waves, and the hum of the moon, a different perspective she supposes.  But a straight line of uniform words which always keep them aligned.  The closure of her eyes does not make them disappear.  They look at her as some sort of artifact, but they know it is  The One they have come for. They shield their eyes from her beauty, beauty which under no circumstances can their division lines cross.   She crumbles to pieces at their feet.  With their guns clenched tightly to their stomachs they look everywhere but at the diamonds glowing on the ground.  They feel a rumbling from below as they look to the earth in a mass of confusion.  They see a boat in the distance, sailing towards them in the shadow of the moon.  Filled with moving darkness they raise their weapons in unison.  The sudden pinkness of the ocean overcomes their sight, blinding their vision.  The darkness of the moving people, their malleability flows into and out of the ocean and above the sky.  They clutch strongly to the thought of their guns as solid forms.  The pumping of their heart overcomes them as they clutch onto it to reinforce its reality; their guns fall to the ground in pieces.  They attempt to piece their guns together as the boat approaches the shore and the shadows which become people before their eyes.  The lost people kiss the shore as their feet touch the earth.  The straight line to the soldiers minds begins to blur as the people begin hugging the soldiers and the pieces of their guns disappear into the sand.  The soldiers don’t know where to focus as they begin to suspect that what they previously had believed is a forgotten past with no possibility of return.  The soldiers are lost amongst the celebrating people as they throw sand upon each other in laughter and lay down and experience land for the first time in which seems to be ages.  As a comet traverses the sky, bathing all in darkness and light no one reaches for anything but the feeling of the world they are building, encapsulating the breath of all they are.  The ocean waves propel glistening diamonds onto the shore,  glinting off the eyes of each one who cares to see.  As the weight that was pressing upon her shoulders lightens its load, she takes a deep breath and once again remembers what it is like to be alive.  Her oneness crumbles into the breathing life that is learning how to see.  Peace rains upon her body as she begins to float away…war is hell

Souls to Infinity

…trapped in the burden of war she cries out, sing me a song, but please, only be from the heart.  The red moon pierces the memory of all she is.  She looks to the ground as she almost forgot there was no real solution.  Lost out here, she breathes in all she ever will be.  If she saw everything on the surface, things would look pretty grim.  There is a split down the middle of her, a meteor storm cutting her into Infinite pieces.  She has touched Infinity, now she will never be the same.  Iridescent clusters of stars travel through her.  Bouncing off the shadows of the soldiers in close pursuit of her.  She has no understanding how They could not comprehend the significance of life.  On a cliff past midnight she watched the stars surge across the sky.  Surging like the faceless soldiers murdering peace.  The ones that were still following her, marching in her mind, damming up the blood to her heart as she falls to the sand overcome with exhaustion.  Her eyes in unison, directionless, focus on movement.  Movement that is only a wall of noise.  Noise overtaking everything in its path, overcoming its weakness with shouted overtures of rhetoric.  She touches the sky and her true life begins.  She only found empowerment when she travelled upon the stars within.  She forgets the monetary struggle to survive.  She thinks those believing They are in power are making a mistake by forcing people to struggle so much.  She thinks it builds character, which is quite dangerous for the characterless.  They have taken her soul and she walks an empty vessel.  The waves of the ocean touch her bare feet, she breathes deeply, stardust enters and exits along to the beat of the ocean.  Even without her soul firmly in tow, she knows their efforts are useless against the vibration of love.  They march towards the sun with her soul on their backs, she laughs as she sees the weight pushing them further and further into the ground.  This is war here, but all she will do is stare at the moon’s reflection upon the ocean and laugh as the weight of her soul crushes the bleakness of hatred

Kings of the shattered mountain

The laughter didn’t last very long.  Splintering into a million tiny shards of light.  Through tunnels of space.  The circle is broken, but still, it continues to grow.  A festering disease upon the planet.  A bang of a golden cane, the top of which is on fire; slamming against the marble floor, thundering to a halt anything within distance of it.  Another empire falls, a darker one is born with less of a conscience and one step more hidden behind the ideas of the old.  They laugh as we forget their facades, hiding behind new forms; another lies not far behind.  The circle is never broken it flows within all of us, it is always the easier choice.  I float on through the sky awaiting my new form, no shape is before me.  The nine amongst them repeatedly shift their forms…my eyes can not settle on a form for more than a brief moment.  The fire brings solidity to their ideas.  They burn with hatred.  They have their hands wrapped around everything, even without a solid form, it is the air they need to sustain life.  I can only hear the pounding of the circle multiplying.  They gain form above me.  I can do nothing but give up.  I can’t go on like this.  I can’t exist at this level.  The level they have never rose above, never forgetting the kid that took their toy in the crib; that level.  I use to think they were evolved far above us, but it’s just the opposite, the inversion of evolution. Their words like the missile I once was can destroy anything in one misused phrase.  How many deaths must I sustain to get a foothold above your heads?   I close my eyes and upon opening them, a new deception materializes, a new deception my eyes can’t quite pierce.  I feel the crying throughout my body.  There are no emotions anywhere on your body, but I feel, I hear your crying.  The child in the corner, toys stolen, never a loving hand, never a loving word.  A circle of crying children with their dark hands in every part of the globe.  I can no longer do anything but laugh.  Mirror upon mirror is placed in front of your actions.    For a brief moment I was like you.  The temperament of a bomb that is all you are.  Chains are quietly wrapped around all I am.  Thought is not permitted here.  Your circle gains color and brightness but I still see all of you as the same.  To the beat of your fiery canes I am led down a mountain.  Your beat attempts to take my mind from the truth, but it is all I have.  I see shadows everywhere and they are growing.  Hatred is the easiest food to obtain here.  I am now placed in a glass cage, viewable from every part of the earth.  I am an example, but this is home now.  I still have what I am and I no longer need anything else.  I will starve before swallowing your hate.  With every beat of your cane I am reminded of where I am, but I still can see the sun rising and I can still see the shadows of what you are cower in fear.  You forget it is impossible to chain the formless