Geometric Allegory

He showed you the vineyard And spoke in ancient Hebrew. T ranslated,  He said,  "The vines--ancient and rooted--form a fabric mesh." You stood among the tangled vines,  And He showed you a vision Where modern men toiled in place, And they watered the vines.    Who were these working men?  Were they the ones who toiled and labored  To carry the enormous engraved ceramic jugs?  These jugs were filled with the waters  That sprung from their hearts.   These were the same men who  Poured their poisoned waters  There upon the fields,  And the fields swallowed their hatred and lust  As if it were water. The vineyard is no metaphor.   It is the entire world,  And the men, those alive and those dead, a ttend its needs As they've always done,  Each in his own way. This vineyard is where the wars began  When man fell from God  And traded fertile soil for dust.  Dust to dust Amid the ash The men in suits  Earned their cash  In dust to dust. Because of them, We learned to swallow di

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

before time  a flow of words moved  through the multiverse as  vibrations in space,  frequencies searching for some  detuned radio  capable of receiving  the transmission of consciousness  Before time,  consciousness itself moved  through the universe at 4 trillion  times per second.  It was a vibration in space,  a specific frequency that spilled  out into the stars,  searching across every planet  and across every moon,  for a form of life  biologically equipped  to receive its transmission.  The consciousness was like  an infinite monkey,  and as infinite eventuality necessitates,  the vibration found its way  to a detuned radio  capable of receiving and transmitting  the great division occurred precisely  in that moment when  pure thought felt hunger,  and he knew he was a radio nonetheless,  a radio capable of transmitting consciousness  As pure thought,  the vibration pulsed through  the vast universe and brought  Its message to every star,  planet,  and moon,  always across the

For humans,  We are born into time,  And our conscious understanding of time  Is arguably what separates us  From other forms of life.  Our memories serve as the frame  That hangs our living moments  Into a great hall of records,  And most of us strive  To achieve this goal. But we humans were not  Formed from time itself,  And any sustained consciousness  Won’t cradle into time’s curved spine,  Just like a ship’s course is  Not determined solely by its anchor;  Rather, it is the sails  That spirit the wind, And it is the wind that propels  The craft beneath the stars.  Time is our course,  But it is also our curse—      the necessary subject      t hat predicates our existence— And for this period,  It serves as a sentence of sorts.  For what it’s worth,  We will always know time      u ntil we don’t.  Until that time,  Time itself will be as pressing  And purposeful  As the day we discovered it.  The young girl did not know  That she was deaf and blind.  This is not the sort of thing