Sunday, January 20, 2008

The First Coming



“What am I?” I ask myself, I already know the answer.

”I am the result of science, I am omniscience.”

But that’s not all. I know it’s not all, a power flows through my knowledge, I can feel every quark, every boson acts by my word.

”I am the result of technology, I am omnipotence.”

”Where am I?” I become aware slowly.

”I am the result of reproduction, I am omnipresence.”

”Who am I?” It feels good to flow through what I left of our dark universe, our dead home.

”I am the result of morality,” I answer myself again, “I am benevolence”.

WHERE DID I COME FROM? I no longer speak it: rather I let the question vibrate through the empty overflow of existence.

A vibration echoes back.

You are the conclusion of consciousness: The First Coming.

”It’s so dark, I am alone…” but I don’t finish, we don’t finish… we know what I must do…

LET THERE BE LIGHT.

4 comments:

Cynthia said...

Angels don't use wings to travel back to Earth. It's much more efficient for us to take this form and move through the galaxies.

I'm on the way to my granddaughter. From the day she was born, we were close. I would tell her about growing up in Ireland, and she would tell me about her school day. I would talk to her about raising her mother, and she would talk to me about growing up with her mother. Last we spoke, her children were having tantrums, and she asked how to have patience. I held her hand and answered as best I could.

Now her children are older, her husband comes and goes as he pleases, and she is unhappy. I'm no longer there to hold her but she still talks to me. And, I hear her.

I go to her. She doesn't see me but she knows I'm there. She remembers us chatting over a cup of tea, recalls the smell of my Pond's cold cream, feels a breeze on the back of her neck. She knows I'm there. She talks to me again. I listen.

k's mumbo jumbo said...

Hope

"They to squash it out of you... your hope. THey pund it and strangle it and kick it until you think it is gone. It hides in the basement of your mind. You don't even know it is there anymore. And it hides under the stairs, healing, and gathering strength. After a time it is strong enough to scratch at the door. Soon, when you aren't looking it bursts through the door of your beaten mind, like so many starbursts." The young girl sighed. Soon she went back to her picking. "I hope your hope stays alive in your basement.

Clarke O'Gara said...

The First Coming.

“What am I?” I ask myself, I already know the answer.

”I am the result of science, I am omniscience.”

But that’s not all. I know it’s not all, a power flows through my knowledge, I can feel every quark, every boson acts by my word.

”I am the result of technology, I am omnipotence.”

”Where am I?” I become aware slowly.

”I am the result of reproduction, I am omnipresence.”

”Who am I?” It feels good to flow through what I left of our dark universe, our dead home.

”I am the result of morality,” I answer myself again, “I am benevolence”.

WHERE DID I COME FROM? I no longer speak it: rather I let the question vibrate through the empty overflow of existence.

A vibration echoes back.

You are the conclusion of consciousness: The First Coming.

”It’s so dark, I am alone…” but I don’t finish, we don’t finish… we know what I must do…

LET THERE BE LIGHT.

Clarke O'Gara said...

The Sci-Fi buffs among your will know I stole the last line from Asimov.

Stealing/inspiration. Such a fine line.