light pours in, an awakening, a beginning, a being. An abundance
of inexplicable sensations alter the light and a pattern emerges.
In the beginning,
the Goddess of Everything
rose naked from Chaos
The warm watery
night turns cold vision. A fog is lifted and anxiety is increased.
Surviving the night requires heat. Light provides the stimulus that
keeps life going through the night, stored in afterimage. The nourishment
lasts from daylight to daylight, from sunset to daybreak. White
light on the shores of dream.
flying and ignite the terrestrial regions. The heat has a force
of its own which grows steadily, a juggernaut. Light and heat can
be created at will. The ambitious mind has started a fire that will
burn the world. Insect culture grows stronger. It takes over the
daylight and would have everything the same. But it is rotting at
the core. The darkness is the refuge and brings forth strange visions,
It comes with
Clouds and Fire and Cooling Rain, with Ocean Calm, Cleansing Winds
and Burning Sun.
in the darkness, peering into the light which has been robbed, appropriated,
stripped, debased, and made cancerous, the night holds its promise
like my marker which I mean to make good. I must find the source.
I look under rocks, in alleys, in doorways, in empty cars. In desk
drawers, in tight jeans, in controlled substances, in movie houses
and strip shows. I hunt down leads found on park benches, library
shelves, on candy wrappers. I let myself wander, hoping to come
upon it unaided. I try to let go, to gain a better hold. And yet
elusive it is. Hard to find, hard to know.
sure you've got your hand on it, a firm hold, it is your member
you are grabbing. When you think you understand some basic part
you are turned the wrong way. Moving faster drains your strength.
Slower and your head turns to stone and your feet to lead, your
lions crumble and blow away. With no support, what remains falls
into the dust. The desert engulfs you, accepts you, loves you. The
desolation wants company. Its numbers are its strengths. None can
ignore the mass. All the stones murmur at once and you fall in slow
Motion, the Shadowy Murk divides in Desire.
I feel myself
going down, my head going down as if pushed from behind, pushed
down to the ground. I see the earth moving slowly towards me. A
black hole opens up and I fall in.
I am aching,
champing at the bit. I am naked. The pressure is building. I am
grinding away at myself, marked for death. I've got it coming and
I like it. In every moment something sacred is at stake. I cannot
sit and wait, I must pursue. I am rushing the cosmic delta. I am
after the thing in the night, the fuel to burn through it. I seek
the black fire that soothes the soul.
I am excited
but a bit uneasy. I am hoping my action, my energy can outdistance
my nausea. I must put it behind me, I must move away. I am racing,
blood pumping, arms pumping, muscles straining, lungs gasping and
yet I cannot move away. I am further and further behind. With every
step I become less and less, the nausea becomes more and more. I
am near the end,
I can fall
From out of the
Deeps there arose a Circle shaped in Spirals.
Coiled within the Spirals lies a Snake
from its coils, with slit eyes cold and impenetrable. I approach
it with head bowed, eyes averted. I grope towards it. I try to feel
its presence. If I see it, it will change. As my eyes focus upon
it, its skin petrifies and it secretly moves on. So I stumble towards
it arms outstretched. I bow to its glory. I worship its mystery.
I am breathless. I know this must be annihilation.
I am Born in
the Infinite Disorder of Prayers*
But this was
not the end. Voices saved me. Music saved me. A simple memory saved
me. An image that was impressed in my mind. I could not quite recall
it, grasp it or resurrect it. But its presence gave hope. It was
all around. Behind all things, all moments. All visions and all
vices, all joys and sorrows. So powerful was the vision that it
was ringing in my ears, like the mother of voices. And the image,
almost forgotten yet ever present.
soul power in the darkness
Daniel Voznick ©2000
"A Thousand Thousand Times" by André Breton