Geometric Allegory

I <3 U Ɛ> I I >Ɛ  ∩ 3< I Etched in the glass of a wood framed mirror, Virtually every story is already told Even this one: The woman stood amid the planted trees And at first felt satisfied and joyous. But the joyousness and wonderment Disappeared and left her with a terrible sense of guilt.  "What have I done?" Some things cannot be undone, Though she set about making amends. She would make a burnt offering. But what sacrifice could atone For her part in the deviant deed? She decided then to scorch the earth with spit and fire And even to burn the Great Citadel, That fortress of the highest place Measured in distance and dimension alike. Then, like a nocturnal cat, She walked the route we still travel. ____________________________________________ Make a cedar box, Rigid, rectangular, and reddish-blue in color. On it is written a cardinal number: 40 and 4. __________________________________________

Russian Nesting Doll - or "For the Initiate" (Geometric Code) ________________________________________________________________________ Oh God... Stop while you can, Before you get to the last  Matryoshka doll. Stop, b ut don't stop searching, Not u ntil you know she's there. How will you know? Allow her to stand before you. Let her rest in the inquisitive Theoretical bisection And remain forever  A possibility. If you let her stay, She will remain whole And unbroken  Like a stolid, stoic Whole note Sung by the invisible future Which surely will come to be . If You break her open, A fractal fissure Will invariably lead To the thousand mirrored-hallways, Or so it seems. I say this again--pointing            to the Russian doll -- Leave her be And do not turn the page  Or read another line Because you do not know  If it is the last Or what it all means.  Each line leads Deeper

In the beginning there was the Word.  It’s hard to explain because the word—           in the beginning— Wasn’t so much a subject and a predicate  As it was a message.  It was a complete idea given to us by the Creator Because He loved us dearly.  Some explain it like this: "Back then, we dwelt in the dirt  And picked the fleas from our skin,  And occasionally our eyes looked up at the sky  Not in wonder, but more because  We sensed a change in the weather.  He spoke to us even then and  Conveyed the message even as  We combed through the hair of the one  Closest to us while searching for fleas  And crushing them between our nails.  The message was very much like a radio signal,  Pressed to our flesh.  For the most part  We didn’t hear it, and if we did,  We didn’t know what it was, so we ignored it.  Eventually—was it decades, centuries, millennia?— One of us finally heard the message.  The neural-pathways re-routed themselves  And the message came through, albeit in a muted way.