Ramified Branches
My eyelids are taut to their limit,.. I've blinked none. I lay half submerged on
the surface of lustrous glass, girded within withering arms of trees.
Earlier I could feel the cold and placid liquid outline the perimeter of my face. Now
there's nothing but a still and dismal numbness. My body I fear has dissolved, reducing
itself of form. It may have spread entirely, coloring the water beneath,.. but I can't be
sure.
An extraneous seeping bile of viscous thought, inked the inner canvas. Many things now
have joined, bridging isolated and foreign cogitations into one gesticulating mass.
Distant nocturnal suns have fused with aimlessly wandering fire flies. Ramified branches,
and crooked lacerations in a dim sky... unified. An ebb of my senses, within the pulse of
muddled perceptions overlay harmoniously against an ever changing flux of melodious
insects. Like a harbinger to an overflow, I heard the Quintessence speak- " Imagine a
world of the blind. Where fingers feel for the glance of sight. Here, men are born without
eyes (they'd see not even black), and they'd know no image devoid of touch. Here, all
hands caress the world, to incorporate and understand it. Imagine a world of blind men, to
themselves they'd be complete. They'd live without an inkling thought to their slightest
imperfection.
Only smooth skin beneath their foreheads, and only lips and nose describe their faces.
In a blank gaze, animals would watch them as they shuffle along walls, arms like whiskers
feeling their way.
Imagine a rung of blind men, bereaved of a single organ.
For this your world is far beyond their comprehension. Your explanation of sight would be
to them, a lie,... a contortion of what is real. listen... I implore you... one measly
organ is all that separates these distant rungs. Can you imagine I the Quintessence?, the
external denominator that surrounds all things? How many organs can exist, which draw in
reality to your core? How many are missing from your bodies?
Judging from your senses, is it not ignorant to assume that you know who, and where you
are? I am only what has been taken in by your senses. By numbing them,... I state that you
are no-one,.... and nowhere."-
Bliss integrated with fear, weaving a network of glorious counter-patterns soaking my soul
to wrinkles.
A cool breeze has brushed my cheek. I feel myself isolated again. I roll my eyes to the
left, noticing that all is as it was.
Written by my husband Thielus.
A. Green
Copyright © Amy Green | Year Posted 2010
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