Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry, More light. Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon, incandescent lights that banish the darkness from our caves to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlights for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Light is knowledge, light is life, light is light.
|
Lawrence had done it in a way, and Joyce. But I think it's an important thing to do now and then, to describe the sex act as our descent, or adventure, into a primordial or strange world, having very little to do with how we look in suits or what our educations have been. It's a well of darkness, as it were, that leaves you refreshed.
|
In fact, it seems that present-day science, with one sweeping step back across millions of centuries, has succeeded in bearing witness to that primordial ' Fiat lux ' Let there be light uttered at the moment when, along with matter, there burst forth from nothing a sea of light and radiation, while the particles of the chemical elements split and formed into millions of galaxies ... Hence, creation took place in time, therefore, there is a Creator, God exists!
|
I am...blood. That primordial ooze. Not out there, listeners, in here. Inside this skin we wear, it only lets us think we're something else-- nice clean brains, little talking computers running around in the pursuit of happiness. We pierce this skin and what do we see Warm ooze, protoplasm churning and jesting, defecating, pulsating, life, death.
|