phil
06-07-2013, 04:56 PM
Take up your fiddle. Sinuous thing, a snake in wooden form, scaled in blood. Prop it between jaw and shoulder and step out over the broken tiles into the living room.
He's watching you. His eyes bulge.
Take a deep breath. Between the desire / And the spasm / Falls the Shadow. Bow held aloft, you draw out the moment, that aching void. Then. Draw it across the strings. Music. Summon it forth, from your omphalos, from the essence of the world, the heart of the Wheel. Music, fit to set the devil dancing.
So dance.
Eyes closed, bow sawing, you build the music up into a funeral pyre of ecstatic energy, and you move. Cavort. So light on your feet you could slip the surly bonds.
There. From the depths of the fugitive darkness. Beyond the floating motes of color, comes gold. That sense of glittering, pulsating energy. The world dissolves around you. Samsara is pierced.
And in gilded raiment's shall you be arrayed. You shall burn in the fire of the soul, and in that coruscation shall ecstasy and pain become one. Watch as the Wheel turns ever on, grinding all beneath its aureate edge, and revel.
Exchange the fiddle for a razor. One parts the mysteries of the universe, the other the mysteries of the flesh.
"You yet hew to the primitive dichotomy of fairness and the unfair. You believe that this fate is undeserved, as if it were possible for a man to elect another. Yet all your choices have brought you to this reckoning, and this is your appointed hour."
Step closer.
"Is this inevitable? Only insofar as your inability to impose your will upon the world has limited you. Does this lack do you discredit? You had none to begin with. The world has always been beyond your grasp, and now you see that your hope for mastery was but perverted denial. Deny yourself no longer. Own this moment, even if it is the only one you ever do."
Step closer still. Close your eyes. Listen to the music, and allow the gold to flow free of every pattern.
He's watching you. His eyes bulge.
Take a deep breath. Between the desire / And the spasm / Falls the Shadow. Bow held aloft, you draw out the moment, that aching void. Then. Draw it across the strings. Music. Summon it forth, from your omphalos, from the essence of the world, the heart of the Wheel. Music, fit to set the devil dancing.
So dance.
Eyes closed, bow sawing, you build the music up into a funeral pyre of ecstatic energy, and you move. Cavort. So light on your feet you could slip the surly bonds.
There. From the depths of the fugitive darkness. Beyond the floating motes of color, comes gold. That sense of glittering, pulsating energy. The world dissolves around you. Samsara is pierced.
And in gilded raiment's shall you be arrayed. You shall burn in the fire of the soul, and in that coruscation shall ecstasy and pain become one. Watch as the Wheel turns ever on, grinding all beneath its aureate edge, and revel.
Exchange the fiddle for a razor. One parts the mysteries of the universe, the other the mysteries of the flesh.
"You yet hew to the primitive dichotomy of fairness and the unfair. You believe that this fate is undeserved, as if it were possible for a man to elect another. Yet all your choices have brought you to this reckoning, and this is your appointed hour."
Step closer.
"Is this inevitable? Only insofar as your inability to impose your will upon the world has limited you. Does this lack do you discredit? You had none to begin with. The world has always been beyond your grasp, and now you see that your hope for mastery was but perverted denial. Deny yourself no longer. Own this moment, even if it is the only one you ever do."
Step closer still. Close your eyes. Listen to the music, and allow the gold to flow free of every pattern.