Bink 4-20-02

How can I know what to make of the world. People hiding from me. It is a stinging pain to me too to see everyone so quiet. It’s not that they don’t speak per say, but their words, what they do say that is so empty. The world’s thoughts, so empty and devoid of substance, of some earthly material, any material at all. Your silence, you quiet reverie. I don’t know how to take it, your loving silence. I am not an empathy. I fail to see your quiet reflecting wraith, shimmering, fluttering through my head. Never have I touched with my hands this love before. I hugged tightly my cold comfort. I was helpless those days so nearly passed, those days that I hated. It burns through my hulking remains of humanity to hear this confession of yours. The atom bomb hit long ago. The glowing hammer, the might of hell pummeling my monolithic form. Like Ethiopians thinking of the Titanic, I believed people to think of me. That lone structure in the desert. Stretched forms, rays of blinding light and then engulfing bands of darkness. Still though, in the ghostly shadows, and the vaporous glow there is life. My older defense mechanisms, so deeply rooted in a macabre maze of catacombs and vaulted caves, live. They held true to the promise, hardwired into my lonely halls and dark trash littered streets.

That fateful day always approaches though. Somehow I was blind to it, I thought it was never anything but a myth. It escaped my perception. It entered those forsaken halls. It found my heart. Sitting on a pedestal. A deep dark room with walls traced in light. Thin wires running amok, until the moment unseen to human eyes, these marvelous refracting mosaics of light, these godly sights. Formerly, the corps of my system, the relentless feudal kings and warlords sought this chamber. Not only those savage beasts keenly peered into the darkness to find this heart though. Great philosophers that once wandered my cheerful and prosperous nation searched also. No cache ever relieved itself to those who extended their probing fingers. Not until the trickery of another. A woman. Kunoichii. She dug deep. Somehow perceiving the truth. No mere words though can describe the horror. Good intentions, perhaps. My cities grew again. Under a gifted leader with the legendary powers, the city grew exponentially, sprawling over the dead infrastructure. Then all of a sudden. Nothing. Again I fell. The streets emptied, the markets shrank. And behold the ruin. Stolen again. From a young happy nation, death. Then the fateful rebirth, and again, desolation.

Some part of the crystal maze has rebuilt itself though. Thinking again. Opened to the world by the bandit queen, I achieved consciousness. My function not merely rote distinctions of off or on, but a complete universe light. A kaleidoscope of glory and peace. Following this conversion, I began my momentous decision for a new and grand shogun. Still in shambles, I reorganized my ruling class, my working class, everything, into a rudimentary train of function. Then distant, through miles of hazy fog and smoke I saw You. I approached cautionless, blind of your possible intention or reaction. I stumbled haphazardly towards your form, ignoring everything. My vision narrowing to a fine point, you.

I don’t know how to continue my expression though. Skipping from there to now I just don’t see. I’ve been torn from the fabric of social order then hastily sewn back in. The pain and agony I’ve felt, my secluded past, my present hate. It all incenses me. My silver traces glowing red. The obsidian glass surrounding the wiring, melting, smoking, smoldering. Everyone in the world, cliché, has a beauty. The meaningless hobos in the shrouded alleys, the various walks of life. I am new to the world and need guidance. I never had parents who knew how to care, never had siblings who helped instead of fought until now. My childhood never took it’s time to climb down to the tree to see things directly. It just bounded from branch to branch, ignoring the smaller protrusions, and tumbling madly to near death. Like a savant I see parts of life that few other’s are said to have seen at such an age. And also like a fool, I have missed too much, and with this I end my deliberation.