Burned

I stood on the edge of a great mountain
I bathed in streams of snowmelt, cold and clear
My lungs like a bellows, pumping my heart
I lived in a world of little oxygen
I contemplated deep philosophies
There were no mysteries to challenge me
I spoke to God, and god spoke back to me
The divine word, resounding in the light
I looked down on the people with despair
I despised them, the unworthy masses

I cut my leg on a sharp stone, and fell
A pathogen set in, and I grew ill
My wound became discolored, infected
It crawled up my veins in jagged red streaks
I needed antibiotics. doctors
Despite my constitution, I would die
I was afraid for my life, mortified
By the ease with which I was struck down
I lost the mastery of my ego
My self-satisfaction turned to loathing

I was afraid, now, of death and darkness
Fever and pneumonia nearly took me
My powerful lungs, turned to feeble sacks
My muscles became flaccid, I was lost
I lived in a wheelchair, I could not work
I had no skills, I became dependent
I stewed in contempt, bewailing my fate
My lost holiness, my former station
I waited for the god I once walked with
To lift me from this world, to transform me

I became obsequious and grateful
For the few coins that were dropped in my cup
For the small sum of funds given to me
Deposited each month in my mailbox
I discovered the vice of alcohol
I measured a new form of endurance
How many days and nights could I stay drunk
I lost the bet, and died in an alley
I fell from my wheelchair with the garbage
Face down in my filth and my excrement

My spirit rose, lifting from the valley
I saw my mountain tall and forbidding
I cringed as I ascended, fearing God
Soiled as I was, and miserable
Broken as I was, unwashed, unshriven
I rose past the cold peak of my mountain
Rising higher than I had ever dreamed
The bright sun touched me with its tongues of fire
I was burned…burned alive, I was burned clean
By the brilliance of the spirit, love

Saint Valentine’s Day

Jennifer is she
Bright as a morning in May
Sensual and sweet

A light in the dark
My warming breeze in winter
February’s love

Freckles, and green eyes
Her flashing smile lights my heart
As the sun in spring

Clear as the bright stream
Swift as the rising moon, cool
In the evening

She listens to me
Sheltering my hopes, and dreams
Believing in me

She is strong, and fierce
I lean on her when I’m tired
And she carries me

Six years of loving
Kind and caring Valentine
Jennifer is she

Observation – January 5th, 2020, Sunday

The sky is bright, light
Blueish-gray, matted by clouds
Thin as wisps of frost

There are a few leaves
Dried things that cling to the trees
Flutter in the breeze

Outside my window
Dark limbs stretched across the pane
The old glass cascades

It bends the soft light
Waving in its fluid state
Windows on the world

Observation – December 4th, 2019, Wednesday

Observation
The sun is shining

The snow is already melting in the light

It is warm this December morning

Everything is blurry outside my window

My eyes are still adjusting to the surgery I had

I can hear the spray from the tires of the cars passing by

Dirty-gray slush and salt covering the street

There is ice on the road and it is slippery

There is not a cloud in the sky

Only jets leaving contrails

And black-birds in flight

Stage Fright

A brilliance of light, hot piercing needles, bright—he stands beneath them
Light and heat, the weight of it burns him, sets his Id on fire

Illusions burst, worms of confusion slither and hollow his belly
Amplified voice barely audible, echoes resounding

A pounding inside his head, bells peeling alarm, tinging with dismay
The shaking begins, the axe, a tangle of strings and chords

Plucked into order, the audience in agape, settle in their seats
Wait for the music, Dionysius, fraught expectations

He dreams of the tortoise, the desire of seclusion, seeking an escape
To be, and not to be, the enigma trapped between poles

Torn apart by fear, the strains of desire, discord as the pressure mounts
Flee for the dark of an anonymous pool, cool serenity

Chiaroscuro

The world makes no sense, its shadows melting into greater darkness

Welcome the sun to the stage, pale in the morning when it rises

Crashing waves of light, expose what is hidden, pierced on bright hooks

The sun is just another player drawn-up from the dark, to dance the final act

The locus of light, magnified on the spot, like a brilliant deception

How can I express the certainty in my heart, as it catches fire

Every single nerve burning along its branches, the body electric

The heat of the spirit, freed through the long crawl over the horizon

Lifted to another plane, beyond banality and all dichotomy

A lucid Caravaggio at the canvass, in the dawn

Observation – August 4th, 2019, Sunday

Observation
There is soft light coming through the windows

Cool air after an evening of rain

Sparrows chatter in elms

Kitty looks out the window and day dreams

A motorcycle rumbles down Bryant

The news is filled with tragedies

It is of angry white-men murdering dozens of people

Terrorism in Texas and Ohio

It the two hundred and sixteenth day of the year

Two hundred and fifty mass-shooting

With no end in sight

Twenty-nine dead and dozens hurt

Each shooting took a matter of seconds

The world turns, the light in Minnesota is soft the air is cool

Sparrows chatter in the elms

Kitty listens and watches the morning traffic on the avenue

Prayer

Listen to my prayer, hear it echoing in the dark chamber of my heart

Take me from this island, free my shadow beneath a shower of light

Listen to the music, the harmony of the spheres, the rolling wave beneath the tranquil sea

Remember me, the forgotten, the poetry of Anonymous

The greatest philosopher who never was, the poet of graffiti artists

Pray for the travelers, trudging through this life, marching forward with their doubts

Listen to the forsaken, the wailing of the self-defeated, stretched and thin

Enlightenment reaches everyone, in the end; like the sun-going super nova, small comfort

Pray for the release of the captive, the deliverance of the addict, I pray for you

Say a prayer for me, for mercy on the sinner, broken from the first breath I drew

Pray, as I pray for you

Emergence 3.0 – Section Six (a), Rebellion; Appendix Part Nine, The People; Collected Chapters

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Friday, March 29th, 2019

Chapter One: Soil

A rebellion is not a protest, it is not a single act, or even a set of actions aimed at a particular end.

A rebellion is comprised of a sustained series of actions, both covert and overt, aimed at overthrowing the entrenched systems of power.

Rebellions does not emerge spontaneously. They are led, they are fomented, they are fueled by grievance and they are organized through tragedy.

In the great Galactic Empire, a rebellion might engulf a planetary government, though it was exceedingly rare a rebellion to succeed, when they did that success was quickly erased, even if the Empire had to destroy the entire planet to quash it.

Planetary governors on occasion had rebelled against the Imperium, drawing entire star systems into the conflagration. These were great dramas which delighted the Collective and could keep them occupied for centuries.

People do not rise up against their governments and rulers for no reason.

They will not risk life and freedom on a lark, not without at least the hope of success, and change.

The soil had to be prepared to receive the seeds of rebellion.

Outrage must be generated, the rebel had to be conditioned to see something in the rebellion that is worth the cost of their lives, the lives of their families and everything they held dear.

They had to see beyond themselves.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Saturday, March 30th, 2019

Chapter Two: Seed

In as much as Jim was a scientist and an explorer, he saw the work that he was engaged as analogous to farming.

The seeds of rebellion were ideas, they were simple and beautiful constructs. They were ideals to be planted in the hearts and minds of the people. He cared for seeds nurturing them through the dreams of those experiencing injustice.

He carefully prepared the field and then he planted the ideas.

Jim did not foster systems of injustice for pleasure or from indifference. His aim was strictly utilitarian. Some would have to suffer and many would die, but it was all for the greater good, distributed to the greatest number.

The vessel he was looking for had to carry within them a visceral reaction to the experience of suffering.

For a rebellion to flourish, the people required the expectation of justice, for it to grow in strength the people required the experience of injustice.

Like a seed planted in the dark soil, the people and the vessel that would emerge from them, required the experience of darkness, despair, in order to condition them to reach for the light

Just like the shoots of a plant springing from the earth, the spirit of rebellion requires the wind of adversity to blow against, this will transform the fresh green stem into a tall and sturdy stalk, capable of supporting the weight of its fruit, long enough for it to mature and drop, scattering thousands of tiny new seeds.

The field had to be turned over, made new, rotated from time to time and let to be fallow.

There was a rhythm to the work he was engaged in, a subtlety that the Continuum could never appreciate, and because of that it did not notice.

The Continuum also used the experience of injustice, it used injustice for its own purpose, but only for the sake of the drama that ensued from it. There was no greater end, the end was suffering, and the vicarious enjoyment of it by the Collective.

Injustice was promulgated for the pleasure of the few.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Sunday, March 31st, 2019

Chapter Three: Water

Narrative mattered.

The experience of injustice nourishes the rebellious spirit like water soaking the roots of a great tree, feeding the heart of the revolutionary until grows so large and beats so painfully that it bursts, but the experience of injustice could never be enough. The story had to be told, and the narrative reinforced.

Too much water and the organism will die, just enough and it will thrive, it will multiply until the towering tree it becomes a mighty forest, beating with a million hearts, a wall to its opponents protecting those within, more than a wall, a force field, a sheltering spirit that can strike with power at any who approach it.

The experience of injustice is nothing if the story of it is never told. Everything has to be laid out in context. The experience of injustice does not occur in a vacuum, it is always a pattern of behavior, of action and reaction.

No event is isolated, everything is related.

If the experience of injustice cannot be tied to an earlier predicate, then it is merely an accident, it is forgivable. Therefore the first story that is told of it, the first witness must connect to the continuing grievances of the people.

The principle who experienced the injustice, and the witness who observed it, must both see the event in the same light, even if the witness and the principle do not agree on the predicate, they can be drawn together through the power of the narrative.

An argument against the narrative is always an argument in the context of the narrative. And the narrative is all that matters.

All histories have three dimensions; the events as the actually happened, which includes both the intersection of actions and intentions that are the material and formal causes of the events, and the consequences which flow from them; the dimension of perception, how the events are perceived and remembered by those who actually experienced them; and the narrative dimension, the story that is told.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Monday, April 1st, 2019

Chapter Four: Light

Knowledge is power, it can be wielded like a weapon, or withheld to the same devastating end.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, a small amount may be just enough to provoke action among the masses, but when shaped and edited, a little piece of knowledge can be used to channel energy, like water under pressure, it can be used to cut through solid rock.

If knowledge is light, then with the amplification of light through narrative, it can become like a laser, powerful enough to cut through the hull of an interstellar ship.

Exposing injustice, naming it, this is a sacred obligation. Everyone with a grievance, is like a priest in the temple, the re-visitation of grievance like the sacred rites must be officiated every day, the narrative must never cease.

Those engaged in this mission, of carrying the light of truth for the sake of their brothers and sisters, they must suffer, they must visibly suffer when they give the narration. Their suffering must be real, discernable and palpable to the people.

Their suffering must be felt, experienced as real, personalized in a way that allows the receiver of the narrative to identify with it and make it their own.

The rebel was taught that they should never lie, to be moderate at times and let the light in slowly. Such cautionary words must guide the people. The people must be on fire with their grievance, but like a lamp, that is slowly replenished with oil so that the light is always burning and never go out.

If the fire comes in to quickly it will shatter the lens and burn them. Then it is possible to become inured to the light, or to fear it, even hateful of it.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Tuesday, April 2nd, 2019

Chapter Five: Growth

A revolution is both a turning of the wheel and an expansion of the circle.

A rebellion moves outward from its center in waves, moving in concentric rings that grow larger and more powerful until they crash against the bullwark of power, eroding it, like water swallowing the shore.

The spirit of the rebellion is like the wind ru’ha, it is the energy that propels the movement, just as the wind fills the sail, pushing the people to find resolution in justice and satisfaction in its administration.

Energy must pour into the center with constant-steady pressure in order to ensure the power of the revolution continues unabated. Each wave pushing the preceding wave in a relentless exercise of strength.

Without that spirit, the rebellion will die; it is fueled by sacrifice, by witness and by narrative. The rebellion requires its story to be told, to be set to music and played on drums.

A rebellion requires constant renewal. There can be no end to it. A rebellion has an objective that is constantly moving. Each generation must hunger for and experience justice in their own time.

The good rebel is empowered by loss and by tragedy, they feed on it.

There are no set-backs, only changes in direction.

There is no victory only progress.

There are no problems, only challenges.

There is no peace in the heart of the rebel.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Wednesday, April 3rd, 2019

Chapter Six: Harvest

A lived experience is a tapestry of cycles and patterns.

Each and every one of the living worlds that comprised the Galactic Empire, experienced these cycles in unique ways; in its patterns of weather, in the rotation of the planet on its axis, or the lack of it; in the orbit of its satellites, whether they are natural or artificial; in the orbit of the world around its star.

These cycles established a season for everything, each season unique to the lived experience of the people on that world.

Those cycles and patterns established rhythms that governed both the conscious and unconscious aspects of the lives of the people; their hours of sleep, their time to eat, even the beating of their heart, the pulse of their blood as it flows through their veins.

A revolution is like a harvest; it comes in its season, and each harvest according to the cycles of its home world. When the harvest comes, those who have sewn injustice reap the same.

The harvest is just one phase in a cycle that repeats itself endlessly. The cycle is different on every world, but the lived experience of every world shares the cycle in common.

They are different but the same.

This is the natural state of every civilization, and though the Collective had been spared this cycle for billions of years, nevertheless, the Collective retained a memory of it in the far reaches of its subconscious.

Those memories were augmented by their voyeurism, and their vicarious experience of these cycles through the observation of life in the Empire

Jim was determined to ensure that its time had come, the revolution was at hand, and the Collective would feel it in force.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0
A Novel – In One Page Per Day
Thursday, April 4th, 2019

Chapter Seven: Fire

Fire is the universal symbol of purification.

As we pass through fire we are refined; our impurities released and our essence distilled into its purest form.

When the fruit of the field is ripe, the people bring it in, they commence with the harvest it and light the fields on fire. They dance in the glow of the burning fields, in the disintegration of the chaff and the stalks. They dance in triumph and thanksgiving.

This is the natural end of the rebellion; the revolution ensues and the hands of justice turn the soil over. We bury the old ways of corruption deep in the earth, sending it down with all of the dead.

Through this ritual we are cleansed.

This is the natural end of rebellion; the revolution is hallowed in the celebration of change, of its constancy, of return and renewal.

The glorious end of the revolution is to start fresh at the beginning.

We generate fresh narratives to gloss over all our crimes and absolve ourselves in the great conflagration.

Fire is the symbol of the beginning and the end.

We are born in the heat of our mother star. In time we will return to her she will reach out and embrace us in the super-nova, the great bath of fire.

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 3.0:
Section Six (a), Rebellion

Appendix Part Nine, The People

Collected Chapters
01 Soil
02 Seed
03 Water
04 Light
05 Growth
06 Harvest
07 Fire

#Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #OnePagePerDay

Like it, Follow it, Share it!