Posted by and still it grows on April 29, 1999 at 16:42:14:
In Reply to: Re: just some stuff posted by sleight of hand on April 27, 1999 at 10:44:28:
: : Feel free to add onto whatever is here... like a continuing thought passing from one to another. It will be cool to see how it turns out. A game! a game! Ha Ha!
: : Storms rage in the distance- large dark masses of sublime conviction illuminating the night sky with radiance beyond any human control. They purify and purge the waiting ground and all beneath them with their clear waters that torrent down upon good and the evil alike. Leaves quake and white birds glide in sharp contrast to the deep gray of the backdrop- harbingers of the immanent cleansing. Then like ghostly horsemen the winds veer across the water with only their footprints visible and the expectation of impact builds... Instantly the cold blast rockets around and through the watcher dragging in its ephemeral fingers the trails of billowing cloth. The watcher throws head back as arms raise in otherworldly joy at the forthcoming event. At a distance the heavy rush of innumerable liquid soldiers grows to a fever pitch and their ranks advance as a solid mass across the water obscuring everything behind their line. The watcher stands atop the water on floating planks bolted to the shore. The violent retort of divinity echos dangerously close accompanied by the blinding flash. At last the watcher is overtaken in a flood of prickling touches- the storm has arrived. Full front to the onslaught of purification the watcher is drenched. Collapsing to knees with arms still outstreched, the trills of fluid racing toward the others of its kind across flesh and cloth, the watcher breathes deep the power of that most unrecognized passing of glory, the entourage of God... the thunderstorm.
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: Lightning crackles, filling the sky with electricity as his mind explodes. The dark red blood pours forth from his broken body. His mind, now striated with a myriad of pulsing electrons, grasps for understanding. The realization comes to him, slowly at first, then building, trilling, finding that deepest, most hidden jewel, but he cannot grasp it completely as he gasps his final breaths...
: Suddenly, another man approaches. The watcher looks up at this new presence - a slight man, his razor sharp features slicing against the stormy sky. The watcher stutters as he speaks, "Wha- What d-do you want?"
: The man spoke, "You're dying."
: Struggling for consciousness, the watcher had to know the answer, "C-C-Can you help-p-p me?"
: "That's why I am here," the man said softly, "It would be impossible for anyone to exist in such a place as this. The final chapter must close."
: "I d-don't-t und-d-derstand..." the watcher's voice trailed off into murky oblivion. His now-lifeless body sank inperceivably as the watcher's life-force was ripped away.
: The man was now speaking to a corpse, "This is a place only for characters - not humans. The overuse of metaphors and adjectives to describe this place strips reality from humanity. Yes, it is somewhat of a gift to speak with such flowing description, but how could any mortal sit move about with such observance?" The man continued, not realizing the ironic futility of his commentary, "No, we can only process so much. I will agree, however, that life is lived moment-by-moment, but only so much can be realized in a single moment. This is the beauty of God. His is an all-encompassing existence. He is omni-aware. I have felt that connection from time to time, but only in the most limiting, human way. Yes, this is why you are doomed to die, and doomed to try..."
: His words fell on dead ears...
The man walked on as if oblivious to the chrashes of raw energy and driving wind that surrounded him. The singed and empty shell of the watcher slid into the water and drifted down into the depths.
At once the watcher found himself in a strange state. He was most certainly himself, but all the sensations that he had always acknowledged unknowingly were now eerily absent. Just then he realized that he could not see. It was not for lack of light but rather that he had no eyes. He tried to scream but found he also had no mouth, nor lungs, nor hands with which to flail about. A shock of pure terror seized his consciousness and help him rapt in its clutches. Was this eternity? He thought, and thought hard, for this was all that seemed to distinguish him from the surrounding void. Who was that strange man he had last seen? The image burned in his memory. The man was speaking to him.
Just then he felt another presence draw near to him. He wanted to scream, to flee, but he was unable as no space existed to move in. Despite his will the presence forced its way into his consciousness. The watcher drew down his thoughts to form as tight a fortress as possible around his evanescent being... But what was this? The presence seemed to be luring him. It was the faintest sort of perception, but he found himself inexplicably willing to open up to it.
It was small, and light- just the barest beginnings of substance. As he softened he noticed that the presence took on a direction, it was oriented in space from him. As he turned toward it he saw for the first time since his last glimpse on the dock. It was a tiny point of light, nothing more, but in this void any perception at all is a wonderous event. The light seemed to illuminate the void of his consciousness in a warm glow. He tried to move closer and as he did he realized that there was a sound around him- in him. It was the point; it was singing. Not audibly, but in a very real way the light and sound were one and this space was now filled and defined by this music.
Upon this realization the watcher was in awe and felt himself being filled more and more with the light/music. As it grew he became aware that the light had a personal quality- it was alive. At last it had filled him completely and only the deepest facets of his consciousness remained un touched. As the point expanded to fill these areas the watcher flinched. He began struggling with all his might to avoid the incessant light streaming into the most private and crucial elements of himself. He tried in vain to supress it, and at the last instant of his will power he heard a voice say, "trust me." It was a child's voice, yet commanded a strength that he had never encountered in the most prominent of grown men. At that point he let go. Not even an instant later he realized that he was standing in a crystal field. It was awash with the light that had begun to fill him and in the distance he could barely make out in the blinding glare the walls of a vast structure more glorious than he could concieve. He was amidst a throng of glimmering creatures all singing in the most beautiful voices the same song he had felt in the light. All around him above and below the throng sang with all its might and he was in the very middle. The crowd parted in the direction from which the light radiated and all those around him began urging him forward. He felt no fear but was reluctant to move from his spot. Nonetheless the crowd kept urging him closer and closer to the source of the light. Then from this one infinite point a voice spoke. It was the child's voice again, but this time the vastness of it blew the entire crowd to the ground...