As the world spun around, the sun peeked over the horizon. Where
does the deepest shadow go during the day? Does it not hide within,
blanketing the subconscious and illuminating the soul? Can I not
find it there and, finding it, can I not plunge deep within? How
absurd then 
the
attempt to police and cordon off all access. Once the word is out,
will they attempt to place roadblocks around the heart. Should it
be unlawful to look in a mirror? Can we be arrested for introspection?
Here is the deep forbidden lake, its waters cold and dark. Here is
the source of all shadow and of all illumination. Breath deep and
dive.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Countless
times through the millennia the cycle had been repeated--the cycle of birth
and illumination of simple forms, and then of extinguishing, implosion,
and the fusion of heavier forms. A complex dust of being was scattered
throughout the vacuum, accumulated to fill that vacuum, and finally coalesced
into richly composed composites, one of which would individuate into the
poet. Yes, the poet had his beginning in the
assemblage
of many scattered fragments which, though they once held other identities,
having such distant and circuitous histories that they could not realistically
be viewed as alien, foreign, or imported, now bore his fingerprints and
genes distinct, compounded into the gestalt from which would surface the
expression of his fluid personality. At this point, however, personality
had not yet been derived, nor even consciousness from which personality
could be fostered; there was here only mindless existence, chaos imposed
into fractal order, communion in a burgeoning community which could be
referred to as soul for lack of a better term, the batter or dough from
which his bread should eventually rise.
And so the poet stewed in a random fashion where his elements were left
to align and disband as nature alone might dictate, stirred by convective
currents until, through the passage of an incomprehensible length of time,
every fraction of his being was allowed congress with every other fraction,
when by inherent affinities the entire body of his existence differentiated
into some semblance of order--the heaviest elements gravitating to the
deepest portions of his psyche, while the lighter elements congregated
closer to the surface. And, as the heat energy (released from internal
radiation and from external bombardment) dissipated, the currents of existence
slowed to a viable pace, allowing the establishment of a crust to define
the boundary between subconscious and conscious. It was, in fact,
outgassing from the becoming unconscious which gave rise to the waters
and atmosphere of consciousness; it was the extrusion of crust and sediment
which gave substance to the ego. This dawning consciousness was yet
a passive thing, merely a perception and a reflection of the surrounding
universe accompanied by a subtle and unreasoned knowledge of a difference
or separation between the perceiver and the
universe
perceived.
And
this consciousness was forever arising anew from the subconscious, and
was forever being subducted back into the subconscious. The actions
of origination and subduction--and the subconscious convection which provided
the motive force--insured an ever-changing mosaic of consciousness, where
perceptions were variegated, compounded and eroded, colliding and rifting
to keep the exterior (as the interior and the
external)
ever in a state of flux, bearing only the illusion of immobility and singular
identity.
And perhaps it was this very flux--simply the motion of existence itself--which allowed the conception, within the seas or tidal pools, of the first dim glimmers of personality. It was the flotsam and jetsam of the subconscious, brought into the light of consciousness, which formed the first rich scum of personality. Reacting to stimuli, metabolizing and reproducing, these primitive, microscopic elements of personality quickly spread throughout the seas, altering both the subconscious and the conscious so as to stabilize these environments and render them capable of sustaining more complex facets of personality.
And
this personality developed through interaction with the conscious and subconscious
environments, banding together microscopic features into grander expressions
of identity, until the basic elements had integrated into organs of specialized
function
for all the various emotions and feelings, intuitions and instincts, evolving
into higher expressions of personality, stepping forth upon land, winging
through the atmosphere, until the conscious being of the poet was entirely
invested in personality. Thought was born of the communication between
kaleidoscopic experience, intuition and instinct, elicited by an infinite
variety of stimuli. And yet, in this particular
individual--the
poet--the connections between personality and subconscious remained (to
some extent at least) conscious, allowing well-springs of creativity to
flow between the depths of being and the most egocentric self. Creativity
was, indeed, the revitalizing force from which the poet drew all of his
strength; creativity was the center-post of his existence. Thus was
the poet rejuvenated by drinking the waters of the deep forbidden
lake,
rejuvenated as are all people nightly in the deepest unremembered refuge
of sleep.
Pillars of Hydrogen Gas
