by D.J.Granger
This is third night I bled from the ears. I awoke, crimson sap slipping down my pillow case. It was fresh. I had just consumed the soul of another savant, savage-like, as if it'd be my last. Never. This thirst for the unknown remains unquenched.
Was it worth the sleepless nights, my mind entwined with a thousand brilliant screams railing against the X that is my fluctuating imagination, boundless, yet confined enough to keep them imprisoned til death do us part?
Yes.
Learned in my own right, it was never enough. A simple why could shatter the foundations of the most complex equations man could harbor in an ever expanding cerebral warehouse. To defy why, one would fall into a deranged state of being, malfunctioning at the slightest attempt to act on a basic level; speech would slur, words would twist, piss would flee the body at will, and emotion would come to rule all logic in an attempt to carve out a speck of order in a vast and rapidly spreading disarray. Ironically, happiness dwells here as well. Here being, the point of transcendence, the pushing of the warehouse goods into the shrouded cobwebbed corners, damp with a residue that would only harden in time, expanding the space where we could walk without fears of drowning and losing ourselves in a bottomless puddle of the unknown. This point is a funny place, where up is down, right is wrong, the colors morph and the sounds all bleed together. Everything is a matter of perspective. To some it is a land of Nihilism, where the haphazardly chosen few wander under black cloaks with averted eyes, sand beneath their feet and a blazing sun overhead, like nomads of knowledge, with no recollection of the promised land.
Why does it matter? Why do we care? One minute gravity has them locked to the dunes, the next minute they're breathing in space, floating amongst the stars. And one could ask, how does it feel to be this high? They'd be lucky to receive a reply.
The same point could be likened to the addict of drugs, any kind, natural or synthetic. The mumbles of the bumbling bum beside the city street speak to the nightly moans and groans of the sex addict, all after a certain point of ecstasy, where the stars collide, and space dust flies, cosmic rays oscillate out into the aether and organisms beyond our sight stir in ways we wouldn't know, somehow contributing to the makings of the universe. And this is only what pleasure told, surely the most bold of the instincts, it is but one, and to try to dissect it is to run, walk, then crawl in circles. Evidence of its infinity. It's all beyond comprehension at this point - at least to a normal mind, give or take a bit of normality.
However, the point beyond this point is where I and those alike have been seeking. And we seek in a constant state of consumption, as energy does, and in this infinite we have gained our pass to ascend. If a greater being were glass, and it were broken into a billion pieces, what would become of the shards? From where would they fall and what would they pierce in their descent? Would whatever stood to meet one of these pieces gain, lose, or simply cease to exist? This greater being is but a ceiling, and our sentiments are only roused when we look up and see ourselves within. Below the glass stands billions of souls, but few privileged enough to stare upwards and not only see beyond that ceiling, but understand it as well. To them, that shard is a drop of acid flung from the sky, it stings when it hits, but leaves an everlasting impression. Like a second birth mark, something is gained, but with it something is lost. What is lost doesn't matter, so it is not lost at all to them. These are the people we seek. Our movement is synonymous with the breaking of the glass, and if each savant is a piece, then we must consume them all to reveal what is complete.
We. This is only a statement of being, entirely false in nature, yet reality to the naked eye. We is I. One entity. One mind. One soul. One purpose. To consume and digest the pieces which make up the whole of knowledge, unlocking the key to what lies beyond. In order to succeed in our endeavor we mimic the shards, not as savants, but Savant, all encompassing knowledge, or seeking to be. This is how
we came to be...
The Progeny of the Glass
Everything is one
as the glass was whole
in the beginning,
I cast the first stone,
before Babel,
before blasphemy,
before Belial.
Curiosity
propelled it
into the aether,
but it returned
as a light,
then a sound,
then a stone.Then the shards rained
down on me,
those acid drops
drenched my mind
inch by inch
divine
corner to corner
sublime.An archetype stands before all now, already fallen from a great mountain in the sky, it gains momentum as it swallows up everything in its path. This is our energy, only digesting what is noteworthy, we consume with the transference of energy in mind, as a means to mend these savants together as one.
xxxON THE ACCOUNT OF
A.
