BobbyIce
06-28-2011, 04:22 PM
This is my first post, and I realize it is quite long, but I believe it's worth reading and I would love critiques on what I can work on. Just to note also, I thoroughly enjoy Biblical allusion and imagery in my work, however I strictly use them as literary tools, my religous affiliation isn't relevant to this particular work.
Isaiah 3:18-26
In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, The bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, The rings, and the nose jewels, The changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, The glasses and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils. And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink, and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well-set hair baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth; and burning instead of beauty. Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war. And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit upon the ground.
The guise of non-activity drained off of Solomon, his eyes gradually, yet slowly rising and mutating forth from seemingly adhesive laced bloated elephant stomachs to a miry, glistening soft matter containing one of the pathways to perception. His face was warm to the touch, as if a mighty wind had just rushed onto him. It showed maroon, dark red but seeable through the night no less, he covered his face with his palms, and ever so often, he let go and shook his cheeks through the cool night wind. When he did so he lost focus, and therefore feeling to his legs and stumbled in a stupor of intoxication. Several shots, and an amnesia of contemplation as to how many beers had been the temporary demise of his birthright consciousness on that night.
As for emotions he had just now regained them, and was sifting through them for a match to fit his being, not through the disabled mechanisms of the still frantic, disengaged thought process, but through only the analysis of his physical body, the brute communicator in a sense. Solomon found that there seemed to be no disturbance; he came to discover that the night had been rather monotonous, a tedium of ill-fated social contact, and anti-climactic reunion with characters once bound by blood, now at a meaningless Great Commission.
Memory inhaled deeply for moments, and forged levels below the mind, spiraling, directing information of all the interactions and advances made, but the baffled state of the mind could only hold so much at one time, and the random skips made the effort like the reassigning of dead leaves to a burning tree.
As his attention let loose his vision, he came to the enlightenment of the party still being alive and well, swarming around him in fact, like a legion of arthropods in their society-wide conformity, purging and purging their individuality, until their ultimate demise, or their ultimate liberation; something other than singular perception and obtuse, absurd environmental anarchy. Of course of the ants, and of the party goers, one cannot seek what they cannot, or refuse to see. Solomon, as his eyes sat upright like a hound being readied for the hunt, began to see it, to visualize the liberation, but he longed to be an antelope, to have the protection of the herd from predators. Not the ones that would aim harm at the physical body, but the ones who would show disturbing pictures, present malicious ideas, and ask insidious questions. However, Solomon could not could not bring himself to embrace the golden blind fold, the lethal secrets of the Forms haunted him so ferociously that his pain, like a red, white, and blue white man pointing his finger proudly in the direction of what he finds to be an enemy, catapulted the entirety of his being and energy towards the abyss of the realms beyond the cage of unwarranted pragmatism.
All of this was on this particular night, met to be suffocated by a waterfall of vibrant nectar, delivering peace from the storm of life, or in some arbitrary circumstances, delivering a storm to the life in peace. Solomon had drunk himself into unconsciousness as a last resort to escape a Red Scare of unutterable proportions; a guest at the party, before it began, chose to approach Solomon with an inquiry regarding God, and an invitation to Sunday church service. The girl was quite prudent, and comfortably polite. She first brought up the subject on most minds at the time; the upcoming party.
"This party's gonna be pretty fun, the ones around here are always good. Have you ever partied around here?"
Solomon hadn't the effort to lie and present to her how social and interactive he was," No, I haven't. It looks cool though. What's your name?
"I'm Maggy; most people call me Mary though, what's yours?"
"Solomon."
"Well it's nice to meet you Solomon. I hope we can talk more when everything starts picking up, but can I ask you something real quick? If you don't mind Solomon."
He raised a brow in suspicion, his control of expression long since gone, the physical evidence being it already smelt of alcohol on his breath. Nonetheless, he approached with innate verbal caution, a protective instinct of the human to gather as much information as possible to process," What's it about?"
Maggy smiled, an antsy grin like a child coming from an amusement park that all their friends couldn't go to and is about to tell them about all the wonders," Well Solomon, it's about your eternal fate, it's about God. What's your opinion on God Solomon?"
Solomon made a sort of mental cringe at the name repetition in the girl’s speech, and an even more expressionist worthy quail of the mind at her nonchalant idealistically galactic question. He found no rebuttals in his mind that resembled any auditory meaning, he simply coincided with his prior plan to become one of the elusive arthropods," I believe in it." he said with utter ego scaring faux enthusiasm, which made the girl have to force herself to sustain her smile, yet tilt her head in question of Solomon’s emotional authenticity.
"That's good Solomon; would you like to go to Sunday service at my church tomorrow with me? I know we just met, but I feel like you should know more about the God we serve that's above us. He loves us all, and wants to save us you know, so would you like to come?"
Solomon looked down quickly, attempting to stop time, he often made those attempts just to see if he actually could, and be free to operate in the infinity of microscopic moments just to have real time to objectively think, however like most of those attempts, it did not work, he lifted his head with an automated answer, from the depths of basic instinctive social aptitude," Yes, I'll be there. Thank you for inviting me."
The already grinning girl perked up substantially, and gently placed her hand, which felt unusually soft, and to Solomon, unusually real, unusually cementing in memory, on his," I can't wait to see you there, we could have dinner afterwards if you can, I'll see you later Solomon."
"Yeah, I'll see you." Solomon produced, barely operating, but focusing on the touch of pan-dimensional interference he experienced, which caused him to call out a curiosity that he normally would have pondered to himself until he forgot it, "Wait!"
She turned around, still smiling, “Yes Solomon?"
"What are doing at this party?"
She giggled and put a hand on her hip," Partying of course Solomon. I hope you have fun too." She giggled again and danced away behind the partial barrier of distance. Solomon was amused, and was either experiencing a feeling long since lost, or experiencing a chariot of fire descending on him from the heavens. Descend upon him it did, and as the exquisite flames massaged his skin, and molded his flesh; he suddenly felt his thoughts melting into primordial soup. God. What of God?
He gently sipped on the depression inducing liquid as he sunk into the uninteractive silence that earned him his perpetual solitude. The nerve to face something as trivial as the existence of god was more than he could bear. Solomon fanatically wished for the question to leave him, to have no speculation regarding the subject what so ever, but every time approached with the abominable query his inner-self burst into a deafening ember of discordant theoretical hypotheses, making his being fluctuate, amongst an oceans storm of philosophy, secret intrigue, and embrace of human interaction with existence.
The closeted scholar began to feel he was falling from the pantheon of nomadic neurological ignorance, and into a Shoel of intense introspection. The strain of such made his blood boil, and his thoughts dance around violently to the sound of screeching, badly composed piano, he felt disturbed, and of the world; impossible to understand.
Escape from this nightmare of social oblivion and banishment to the abstract was now of essential priority, thus Solomon dived down deep below into an aquifer of numbing disconnect, that allowed him a channel to flee into, away from the fray of thought. The burning sensations of liquor and the heavy onset of beer on the stomach eventually faded into the now voided back places of his mind. Solomon was now at disconnect with the mental and physical, from what his blind perception could show him, he discerned he was making several attempts at being social, most of them lack-luster at best, yet the feeling of emotional depression escaped him, because of this he continued drinking, and thus he plunged quickly into unconsciousness, and later awoke to the conglomerate of peers, up and about in full swing, dancing around him, like Olympians, while he sat slumped, thoughtless, and eerie looking, a Prometheus who's liver had just been torn from him by a vulture of relentless social discord.
An analysis of boundaries and lands and forms was needed, as Solomon believed himself to be regained at this moment, to have a grasp and control on his being, prepared for a revival of effort towards his goal of divine bliss. He glanced up at the reflecting aurora of dancing persons, being anointed by the vast array of colored lights above them. They seemed in a realm without purpose, a static concord of escapists, how beautiful it was to Solomon. He gazed knowing that these gorgeous people knew not of the ground below them, and therefore, there was no ground, he concluded that they were flying, and but for a moment his mind’s eye so subtly evaded the strict notions of perception and made it seem as though they were flying, and Solomon could see it, and even began to feel it, until the ever watchful Cerberus snatched him up in its jowls of choked perception and flung Solomon back into the house of reality he had built for himself, redefining the distance between him, and the others.
Solomon decided, this time, to patiently develop a plan of action that would cement his arrival into Canon. He watched the faces of the members of the crowd, the luminescent brilliance of lights as well as the fog of war distorting them, but eventually the persistent burrowing of vision solidified the faces of these afar off entities, and the first prominent feature Solomon recognized, was their smiles.
Their lips boasted outward, thick, widening, and encompassing the whole of their expressions. The teeth between them boisterously glimmered, each one an individual Chrystal mountain, an equally glistening, shining castle, resting upon the white hills, unable to be hidden, yet seen by no one but those residing in them. With their brilliance on show for the stars above to lust after, they swayed back and forth, a brothel of self-indulgent Aphrodites. Solomon let his eyes depart from this sparkling haven, and had them draw back, to admire even more the beauty of this human delicacy. He examined the face of a tall, thin, amorously dressed blonde girl, only to find a mutation of visually incredulous proportions.
Above the inflated inhuman smile her skin seemed to be falling, shifting in amorphous fashion, her eyeballs sliding out slowly, appearing as egg yolks creeping down over the cheeks and her eye sockets dilatorily shifted in form, to appear boneless, and gave way to the now oozing flesh once surrounding them. All in the midst of the disintegrating face, the diamond smile remained, shining and brilliant, everything around it transforming into distorted matter, dripping down like a thick bog to the floor, yet retaining just enough form for the smile to stand.
Solomon exhaled a breath of terrified mental congestion, and hastily threw his gaze to the next person, and in contrast to his expectations, and his hopes, the case was the very same. The radiant mass of paradise before him had drifted into a hellish oblivion, blind to its own loss of form, yet still showing joy, glee, perhaps happiness. Solomon channeled all of his focus onto the happiness, the ever-growing swamp of meaningless bile building in all consistencies on the floor. The bile crept along on the surface of festivities, as if the earth had a mouth, and it was foaming over, creating a low tide wash of disgust and unnatural filth, burrowing, tainting the soil, on its way to Solomon. His gaze remained fixed on the gorgeous smiles of the bourgeoisie of atmosphere, the deleterious liquid rolling ever closer to his feet.
As Solomon obsessed in pitiful yearning, the rancid waters of the material Nile chose him as one of the followers of Pharaoh, and cast itself upon his polished shoes. He somehow looked into himself, feeling the filth scratching fanatically at his core. His stomach turned upside down from a radiating stench that now permeated into his being. He felt as though two iron cast nails, were being leisurely hammered into each temple of his head by two vultures, using just enough of their malice to peck the nails forward into his mind.
Solomon threw himself back from the onslaught of beguiled foul matter, and as he did he felt the foundations of his skeletal system bend like rubber. He felt himself becoming nothing, cascading down the swollen, dirty, flooded, abhorred river of ineluctable insentience and it gave him pain like nothing he had never known before. It was much like giving birth to rabid minks, over and over again for hours, finding the minks only claw their way through delicate flesh to crawl back into the mouth, choking out life as it is simultaneously given, the life itself wishing to return, but only being thrown back out, thus multiplying the shrieking rage of the newborn spirit, and turning it's will against its charitable provision of life.
Cursed matter dripped down from Solomon’s cheek, dragging with it his reality. Solomon's tears of regret and disbelief fell onto the shadow along with the waste, as the ever-fading now elementary being that he had become now attempted to run, but he only turned away to plummet to the ground, his hand turning to a thick paste-like sludge, connecting with the dust of the earth, becoming one with the inorganic patchwork of soil. He felt his mind was falling close to Armageddon, so close that now it was no longer falling, because it was just now beginning, to no longer be, was.
With disintegrating eyes he looked up, thinking it to be his last action of thought, his last stand. He saw an opaque wall of black, he saw nothing, or so he believed. Despair shimmied into the hall of memory, as it too faded; Solomon felt the strings of life being sliced by the witches three. However before his gaze could die with him, the darkness offered a quick spark of lucid flame. The glimpse of movement aroused Solomon’s sight to return for one last campaign, the visual heat snatching him from deaths jaws.
For a moment the spark dully jumped, retaining one area, as if it too, was about to die, but at the very next interval of measured time, inexplicably grew to a momentous flame, revealing before him, a bush, drenched now in ever moving energy. It gave Solomon light to gaze upon his melting body, and to see the reflection of the anonymous fire on his still-remaining, glimmering shoes. Solomon felt a reaction; he felt a movement within himself that acted with such ominous subtlety it caused him to immediately act. He vigorously cleaved the pair of aesthetics away from his feet, and let them touch the liberating coolness of the ground. Solomon hastily turned back to the bush, and as he did a wave of bruising, dominating heat smacked against him, rearranging the matter he had become back to its genesis, and forcing the lids of his eyes back, making Solomon unable to close them.
Solomon saw the bush flee away from him, and felt within him a divine ascension. The bush faded quickly into the distance, giving way to the passing of thick gray clouds, within them great storms of lighting and a never-ceasing galactic pressure, causing all that exists within its sphere to constantly be at all places and surroundings at once, and constantly colliding with itself. The clouds faded also, the storms within them becoming petite sparks themselves, revealed to be a part of the whole. Solomon now gazed at the entire earth, its spherical image sitting in the cradle of space, and it too, was aflame. With terrified but excited eyes Solomon peered, the heat of the earth's ember, beginning to singe more than his face and body, but persisting to purge him of substance which he could not identify, but the removal of the element made his skin tingle, his heart throb with pleasure, and gave him an orgasmic sensation. His eyelids lowered to an eastern holy position, and as they did so, Solomon ejaculated a verbal revelation, speaking to the earth with a voice now radiating across the plain of space, "I am."
Combustion of immense serenity engulfed him in sublime self-reverence, as he happily basked in the glow he had created for himself, watching the earth sit ignited. He found himself whisked away while remaining in one region, harmonious with all surrounding him, yet individually separate. This was a peaceful world, the one that was ablaze, being purged, but also being.
There was no time, so when the extravagant entanglement of inner enlightenment was suspended by the outside, it seemed as though it immediately occurred. The luminescent, scorching earth was eclipsed, by the image of a young, radiant, and beautiful girl, so close to womanhood, yet still imbibed with clean, pure, and innocent youth. Solomon's vision was violently collapsed by the image, and he found himself once again in the realm of determinism. All things returned to their former state, with the inclusion of their former normalcy, whatever meaning one can give to the term, so give it.
The girl facing Solomon stood tall for a female, thin with the subtle curves of lake waves, drifting daintily to the shore. Her eyes projected a sparkling effulgence of the color blue; impacting those would look on them, giving them the idea of a near perfect form, as if the very touch of a collective god of symmetrical genius was transmitted through her, making its frontier out of her essence. The kind of beauty that would inspire whosoever witnessed it to an utterly foolish gallantry, for the sake of its acknowledgement. The remainder of her being followed suit, the ideal woman; the arms of the Venus de Milo. Solomon gazed, deafened and numbed by the transferring from world to world, and the slap of material brilliance lodged now into his mind much like an axe, swung inhumanely, viciously into his skull. Thus, he had little, more of nothing to say, for he had little, or more of nothing to think.
This heavenly body now emerging, however, began the conversation, her voice as auditorally gargantuan in quality as her face was exquisite, her voice gave way to grandiloquence, but it seemed by her to be so earned that it was overlooked," You look lonely, why aren't you dancing with us?"
Solomon judgmentally eyed himself, and wondered unequivocally the same thing. The question stymied him. He simply looked up at the wondrous figure and smiled.
She answered immediately, as if Solomon had regurgitated everything he had ever known, and plotted it onto her mathematically," You drank a little too much huh?" she giggled, “Are you okay?"
He smirked at her experienced eyes, still shining like stars in Orion’s belt, beacons assaulting Solomon's face with light, and answered," Yeah I'm fine, I guess I just got a little lost."
She laughed," That's okay it happens to all of us. I kind of like it. It feels good just to let go you know? You should come dance with me, have some fun with us." After speaking she harpooned a smile into Solomon, forcing his legs to buckle, even though he was sitting down.
Solomon thought about this, contemplating dancing with such a glorious image of humanity, and concluded this was what he wanted, this was what the night was for; it had not yet been lost. Yet the experience he had only moments ago, his mind would not allow him to reject it, and let it fall to a gross, neglecting amnesia. He remembered the feeling the sight of the world in flame gave him, and the resonant grasp of utopia he had held onto in the vacuum without time, and longed to know whether that sensation and experience was real, or this girl, this spinning view of catapulting material splendor, was real, or even more real. What he concluded seemed foolproof. The aim of the man, was to achieve whatever pleasure is most achievable through the foremost means recognizable, so Solomon was now going to test reality, and it's honesty with itself.
"I'm not much of a dancer. I'd like to go somewhere alone with you."
Before Solomon’s inquisitive monitoring, the girl locked her lips together, forging a boisterous symbol of fertility and slightly squint her eyes, sharpening her features, illuminating her attitude, "I knew there was something about you I liked, come with me."
She took his hand, while Solomon still remained motionless with surprise, a feeling of successful recognition, and a similar furor of self he had experienced earlier, and began to lead him, as an urgent mistress, to a place of understood sensual privacy. Everything seemed a blur on the way to the holy place, behind the curtain of the temple, Solomon only recognizing iconic imagery: shining lights of the party, passersby in the darkness, legions worth of vehicles, the tall doorway of a house leading to a bright, open atrium, temporarily blinding his vision. He found himself, at the conclusion of the pilgrimage, returned into a dark place, which he assumed was a bedroom, the only light giving any rise to the assumption being a dim lamp, in a constant state of drowning in darkness.
In regaining his composure Solomon fixed his gaze on the angelic presence before him, now standing at the foot of a king sized bed, eloquently dressed with fine sheets, a hefty rose red comforter, and bulging terrific pillows all most likely ranging in the price of six hundred dollars. She removed whatever garments restraining her natural presence from the view of the world surrounding her, revealing an ethereal assortment of physical artistry, seemingly molding to the idea of human beauty, a body crafted from divine imagination. Solomon’s heart began to ravage his body, hammering over and over again, pulsating to a ubiquitous beat; the beat of creation, of life.
The girl floated along a river of atmospheric tension seeming to be unaffected by the great weight of physical reaction, and utilizing it for her advantage, and drifted to Solomon. She undressed him as if peeling dry, burned skin to reveal a new, emerging skin, pure and without profligacy. They both stood, ready to return to the womb, and the attractive essence wrapped her arms around Solomon, and gently fell back into an ocean of weightless sensuality. Solomon forgot all that had ever occurred in an instant, perceiving only the moment, only the viability of that which can be touched, that can be grasped by the body and thus the mind, but nothing therefore that the mind could grasp but the body could not, the presence of those anomalies was disallowed within the holy realm of the dynamic and entrancing practice of humanity.
Solomon fixed himself in her eyes, and those eyes only fixed themselves back at him, signifying physical syncracy. An overwhelming rush came over him, and swept him away into an unknown, distinguished realm of the senses, he felt achieved, he finally felt purpose, on a high mountain within the confines of his being he proclaimed to the mightiest in the heavens and the smallest within the infinite spaces of stuff, that the goal of his existence had been reached in this act, that after, he will forget all that plagued him, all that confronted him with the nature of things. He relaxed himself, and envisioned his body, floating on the calm waters of a disillusioned world all his own, for he knew all that was.
For another unknown amount of time, the area within the realm of omniscience radiated forth peace, and Solomon found himself on the seventh day of creation.
Soon however, a rumbling came forth from the depths, a raging quake, trembling violently. Solomon felt the tumultuous fury beginning to slash at him from the inside like a wild feline. He desperately jerked his hands to house themselves at the arms of the savior of his newfound reality, and felt his panicking digits fall into what felt like tightly compressed piles of grain. Fear told him to keep his eyes fortified, but reason unshackled the cuffs of delusion, and he sprung forth into the outside with his vision. The serene picture of allurement that had called him so majestically to the peak of discovery, was now eroding away, small portions all over the face beginning to chip off into small pieces of sand-like matter.
The rumbling persisted. Solomon’s stomach and legs tightened as he fought vigorously to free himself from this strange demon of time, its hour glass shape now brought into true meaning. He felt sensations of pleasure, followed by thousands of knife pricks, multiplying across his physical and mental body, out-roaring any sense of belonging or rest that had come onto him. Air and space seemed to race past, the entirety of his existence felt as though it was being thrust forward towards oblivion; he longed to escape, yet saw no possibility. The sands began to explode forth, gyrating across Solomon’s body, constraining him to their movement and control, which proved to have no meaning at all. Solomon felt a rising sensation along with a plethora of ongoing torments, a rainbow of sensation, thrusting him into an upcoming darkness, which he both loathed and wished for, for he could no longer guess the difference between the two. He met the darkness, and then he felt nothing.
He found himself in limbo, suspended within and without, of an area unknown to him. Pleasure had met demise in a horrid combination resulting in nothingness. He felt nothing, and could apply no meaning to anything at all, he felt he had followed a stream of light for too long, and now he could no longer tell what light was nor darkness. Alone he was drifting, and alone he felt, until once again he was awakened.
The morning light of the sun burst forth from a window facing Solomon’s once sleeping body. His eyes opened as if they were weary travelers slowly dragging themselves through a desolate valley. It took him only moments to recollect the truths of the night, but he forced himself to not acknowledge what he saw that couldn't be described. He desperately attempted to use the light of the new day's rising sun wash away the memories of his mysterious odyssey. As the light of the day granted him new life, he turned to see no one beside him in the bed, and his clothes strung out onto the floor at the foot of the resting piece of furniture. Solomon removed himself from the bed, and quickly put on his clothes, wasting no time in exiting this place of lingering contemplation. He hurried through corridors he had no memory of, and into the atrium that had blinded him the night before. Longing to escape more memories he also hurried past this as well, making sure to mark nothing of importance to recall later, and arrived at the outgoing to door, which to his surprise was open. He walked into the opening and found himself gazing into a wide plot of grassy land being illuminated by the sun sending its rays of light onto the morning dew, sparkling like glitter in its radiance.
Solomon felt rejuvenated from the sight, and looked closer to fully absorb the picture of nature that proved to be so glorious to him at this moment. He observed a white heal-all, poking up from the shining blades of grass, embracing the warmth of the sun, and glistening in the dew lazily cascading off of it. On the heal-all he saw an insect, moving every now and then, shuttering drastically as they do, and seemingly transporting itself around with no knowledge of direction or sense of reason. The insect jumped forth and spread its wings in furious motion, flying towards another surface to land to arbitrarily sputter about on. As it was on its way it was consumed, effortlessly, randomly by a frog. The frog plopped down onto the ground eradicating his quick meal, and continued on his way, seeking not rest, but the next chance to provide for himself the continuance of his life. He hopped along amongst the still shining grass, until the vicious, sharp teeth of a small canine ripped into his flesh. The dog happily consumed the animal, and dug at the ground while his chewed the frog up, and swallowed the meal, giving him sustenance. The petite dog scurried around aimlessly sniffing, looking up and around often, perking up its ears. It continued to sniff and scurry until it came across a tinkling bracelet, which shown brilliantly in the sun, more so than any of the grass or the creatures within it. The dog commenced in smelling the jewelry, and then snatched it up with a resounding snarl, and began to gnaw at the hard plastic. Then, what seemed to be a person emerged from behind a tree. They pointed their finger at the dog and harshly scolded it. The dog stood paralyzed in fear, still holding the sparkling bracelet within his jowls. The person snatched the ornament from his mouth, and wiped it with great conviction with a clean white cloth. After cleaning it they gazed upon it, ceremoniously lifting it up to the sun, as if its presence now invigorated their existence, and gave them a higher being. The individual smiled haughtily, and laughed under the suns brightness. The excited founder of the beautiful piece marveled in it and their self, while another person emerged from behind the tree. They ran to and confronted the holder of the beloved ornament. The founder of the sparkling device pushed his confronter away with the arm on which they were wearing the trinket. With great courage they seemed to proclaim themself worthy of the object and its beauty. Anger seeped into the other person whose wrist was devoid of sparkling dress, and they pushed the holder of the ornament with rage. The two began to scream at one another with great intensity and frivolous effort. The dog began to growl, howl, and bark ferociously at the two of them. More canines gathered around the two bellowing people, all barking and creating uproar in the air. Solomon began to see frogs emerging from the dirt and the grass, hundreds all gravitating, croaking loudly along the way, to the conflict. Behind them came thousands of flies, hovering above, creating a deafening buzzing noise, all of the sound creating a horrid vibration for all to feel. The two bickering humans at the center finally lost all reason to contain themselves, and clashed against one another, and as they did, so did the raging dogs, the shrieking frogs, and the swarming flies. Solomon gazed at these events, all occurring in the open underneath the refulgence of the sun, and saw that these beings had been betrayed by the bravery of their tinkling ornaments, thrust into a chaos encompassing all manner of meaning.
With a blink of the eyes the Solomon erased the vision that had fallen before him. He walked into the brightness of the sun, and felt no longer any need to hide from what was, or what wasn't. Solomon left that place.
He found himself at the foot of a church. He ascended white, stone steps to reach tall, thin, and elegant doors, which were also a cream white. Within them he could hear music, and much singing. Within those doors he also felt from a few, a strange feeling he had never known before, an alien and mysterious sensation that caused him from the depths of his being to embrace himself, and his thoughts. Solomon, with a newfound affinity, opened the doors.
People lined the pews from left to right, Solomon saw them as old oak trees, planted long ago, and found their presence small. But throughout the forest of oaks he saw a few who danced about within themselves with a great fury of revelation, discovery, and happiness. He made his way up the aisle, to find the young woman from the party watching him, a loving smile on her face. Solomon waded through the brush of knees to reach her, and take his seat at her side.
Still showing such a true smile, she spoke to him, “I’m glad you came, I thought you might have gotten scared."
Solomon returned the same true smile, “I found the bravery to make it."
The both of them smiled and dove into one another’s eyes to find another place without time or space. The girl put her hand on Solomon's again. He felt the reality again, the reality within the reality, the order within the absurd. Solomon could no longer acquire of whether or not he was swimming in a vision or hiking up rigid rocks of agreeable reality, but the touch of that hand made him somehow vicariously at peace. He sat back and smiled, as the world sat aflame once again.
Isaiah 3:18-26
In that day the Lord will take away the bravery of their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, The bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, The rings, and the nose jewels, The changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, The glasses and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils. And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink, and instead of a girdle a rent; and instead of well-set hair baldness; and instead of a stomacher a girding of sackcloth; and burning instead of beauty. Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war. And her gates shall lament and mourn; and she being desolate shall sit upon the ground.
The guise of non-activity drained off of Solomon, his eyes gradually, yet slowly rising and mutating forth from seemingly adhesive laced bloated elephant stomachs to a miry, glistening soft matter containing one of the pathways to perception. His face was warm to the touch, as if a mighty wind had just rushed onto him. It showed maroon, dark red but seeable through the night no less, he covered his face with his palms, and ever so often, he let go and shook his cheeks through the cool night wind. When he did so he lost focus, and therefore feeling to his legs and stumbled in a stupor of intoxication. Several shots, and an amnesia of contemplation as to how many beers had been the temporary demise of his birthright consciousness on that night.
As for emotions he had just now regained them, and was sifting through them for a match to fit his being, not through the disabled mechanisms of the still frantic, disengaged thought process, but through only the analysis of his physical body, the brute communicator in a sense. Solomon found that there seemed to be no disturbance; he came to discover that the night had been rather monotonous, a tedium of ill-fated social contact, and anti-climactic reunion with characters once bound by blood, now at a meaningless Great Commission.
Memory inhaled deeply for moments, and forged levels below the mind, spiraling, directing information of all the interactions and advances made, but the baffled state of the mind could only hold so much at one time, and the random skips made the effort like the reassigning of dead leaves to a burning tree.
As his attention let loose his vision, he came to the enlightenment of the party still being alive and well, swarming around him in fact, like a legion of arthropods in their society-wide conformity, purging and purging their individuality, until their ultimate demise, or their ultimate liberation; something other than singular perception and obtuse, absurd environmental anarchy. Of course of the ants, and of the party goers, one cannot seek what they cannot, or refuse to see. Solomon, as his eyes sat upright like a hound being readied for the hunt, began to see it, to visualize the liberation, but he longed to be an antelope, to have the protection of the herd from predators. Not the ones that would aim harm at the physical body, but the ones who would show disturbing pictures, present malicious ideas, and ask insidious questions. However, Solomon could not could not bring himself to embrace the golden blind fold, the lethal secrets of the Forms haunted him so ferociously that his pain, like a red, white, and blue white man pointing his finger proudly in the direction of what he finds to be an enemy, catapulted the entirety of his being and energy towards the abyss of the realms beyond the cage of unwarranted pragmatism.
All of this was on this particular night, met to be suffocated by a waterfall of vibrant nectar, delivering peace from the storm of life, or in some arbitrary circumstances, delivering a storm to the life in peace. Solomon had drunk himself into unconsciousness as a last resort to escape a Red Scare of unutterable proportions; a guest at the party, before it began, chose to approach Solomon with an inquiry regarding God, and an invitation to Sunday church service. The girl was quite prudent, and comfortably polite. She first brought up the subject on most minds at the time; the upcoming party.
"This party's gonna be pretty fun, the ones around here are always good. Have you ever partied around here?"
Solomon hadn't the effort to lie and present to her how social and interactive he was," No, I haven't. It looks cool though. What's your name?
"I'm Maggy; most people call me Mary though, what's yours?"
"Solomon."
"Well it's nice to meet you Solomon. I hope we can talk more when everything starts picking up, but can I ask you something real quick? If you don't mind Solomon."
He raised a brow in suspicion, his control of expression long since gone, the physical evidence being it already smelt of alcohol on his breath. Nonetheless, he approached with innate verbal caution, a protective instinct of the human to gather as much information as possible to process," What's it about?"
Maggy smiled, an antsy grin like a child coming from an amusement park that all their friends couldn't go to and is about to tell them about all the wonders," Well Solomon, it's about your eternal fate, it's about God. What's your opinion on God Solomon?"
Solomon made a sort of mental cringe at the name repetition in the girl’s speech, and an even more expressionist worthy quail of the mind at her nonchalant idealistically galactic question. He found no rebuttals in his mind that resembled any auditory meaning, he simply coincided with his prior plan to become one of the elusive arthropods," I believe in it." he said with utter ego scaring faux enthusiasm, which made the girl have to force herself to sustain her smile, yet tilt her head in question of Solomon’s emotional authenticity.
"That's good Solomon; would you like to go to Sunday service at my church tomorrow with me? I know we just met, but I feel like you should know more about the God we serve that's above us. He loves us all, and wants to save us you know, so would you like to come?"
Solomon looked down quickly, attempting to stop time, he often made those attempts just to see if he actually could, and be free to operate in the infinity of microscopic moments just to have real time to objectively think, however like most of those attempts, it did not work, he lifted his head with an automated answer, from the depths of basic instinctive social aptitude," Yes, I'll be there. Thank you for inviting me."
The already grinning girl perked up substantially, and gently placed her hand, which felt unusually soft, and to Solomon, unusually real, unusually cementing in memory, on his," I can't wait to see you there, we could have dinner afterwards if you can, I'll see you later Solomon."
"Yeah, I'll see you." Solomon produced, barely operating, but focusing on the touch of pan-dimensional interference he experienced, which caused him to call out a curiosity that he normally would have pondered to himself until he forgot it, "Wait!"
She turned around, still smiling, “Yes Solomon?"
"What are doing at this party?"
She giggled and put a hand on her hip," Partying of course Solomon. I hope you have fun too." She giggled again and danced away behind the partial barrier of distance. Solomon was amused, and was either experiencing a feeling long since lost, or experiencing a chariot of fire descending on him from the heavens. Descend upon him it did, and as the exquisite flames massaged his skin, and molded his flesh; he suddenly felt his thoughts melting into primordial soup. God. What of God?
He gently sipped on the depression inducing liquid as he sunk into the uninteractive silence that earned him his perpetual solitude. The nerve to face something as trivial as the existence of god was more than he could bear. Solomon fanatically wished for the question to leave him, to have no speculation regarding the subject what so ever, but every time approached with the abominable query his inner-self burst into a deafening ember of discordant theoretical hypotheses, making his being fluctuate, amongst an oceans storm of philosophy, secret intrigue, and embrace of human interaction with existence.
The closeted scholar began to feel he was falling from the pantheon of nomadic neurological ignorance, and into a Shoel of intense introspection. The strain of such made his blood boil, and his thoughts dance around violently to the sound of screeching, badly composed piano, he felt disturbed, and of the world; impossible to understand.
Escape from this nightmare of social oblivion and banishment to the abstract was now of essential priority, thus Solomon dived down deep below into an aquifer of numbing disconnect, that allowed him a channel to flee into, away from the fray of thought. The burning sensations of liquor and the heavy onset of beer on the stomach eventually faded into the now voided back places of his mind. Solomon was now at disconnect with the mental and physical, from what his blind perception could show him, he discerned he was making several attempts at being social, most of them lack-luster at best, yet the feeling of emotional depression escaped him, because of this he continued drinking, and thus he plunged quickly into unconsciousness, and later awoke to the conglomerate of peers, up and about in full swing, dancing around him, like Olympians, while he sat slumped, thoughtless, and eerie looking, a Prometheus who's liver had just been torn from him by a vulture of relentless social discord.
An analysis of boundaries and lands and forms was needed, as Solomon believed himself to be regained at this moment, to have a grasp and control on his being, prepared for a revival of effort towards his goal of divine bliss. He glanced up at the reflecting aurora of dancing persons, being anointed by the vast array of colored lights above them. They seemed in a realm without purpose, a static concord of escapists, how beautiful it was to Solomon. He gazed knowing that these gorgeous people knew not of the ground below them, and therefore, there was no ground, he concluded that they were flying, and but for a moment his mind’s eye so subtly evaded the strict notions of perception and made it seem as though they were flying, and Solomon could see it, and even began to feel it, until the ever watchful Cerberus snatched him up in its jowls of choked perception and flung Solomon back into the house of reality he had built for himself, redefining the distance between him, and the others.
Solomon decided, this time, to patiently develop a plan of action that would cement his arrival into Canon. He watched the faces of the members of the crowd, the luminescent brilliance of lights as well as the fog of war distorting them, but eventually the persistent burrowing of vision solidified the faces of these afar off entities, and the first prominent feature Solomon recognized, was their smiles.
Their lips boasted outward, thick, widening, and encompassing the whole of their expressions. The teeth between them boisterously glimmered, each one an individual Chrystal mountain, an equally glistening, shining castle, resting upon the white hills, unable to be hidden, yet seen by no one but those residing in them. With their brilliance on show for the stars above to lust after, they swayed back and forth, a brothel of self-indulgent Aphrodites. Solomon let his eyes depart from this sparkling haven, and had them draw back, to admire even more the beauty of this human delicacy. He examined the face of a tall, thin, amorously dressed blonde girl, only to find a mutation of visually incredulous proportions.
Above the inflated inhuman smile her skin seemed to be falling, shifting in amorphous fashion, her eyeballs sliding out slowly, appearing as egg yolks creeping down over the cheeks and her eye sockets dilatorily shifted in form, to appear boneless, and gave way to the now oozing flesh once surrounding them. All in the midst of the disintegrating face, the diamond smile remained, shining and brilliant, everything around it transforming into distorted matter, dripping down like a thick bog to the floor, yet retaining just enough form for the smile to stand.
Solomon exhaled a breath of terrified mental congestion, and hastily threw his gaze to the next person, and in contrast to his expectations, and his hopes, the case was the very same. The radiant mass of paradise before him had drifted into a hellish oblivion, blind to its own loss of form, yet still showing joy, glee, perhaps happiness. Solomon channeled all of his focus onto the happiness, the ever-growing swamp of meaningless bile building in all consistencies on the floor. The bile crept along on the surface of festivities, as if the earth had a mouth, and it was foaming over, creating a low tide wash of disgust and unnatural filth, burrowing, tainting the soil, on its way to Solomon. His gaze remained fixed on the gorgeous smiles of the bourgeoisie of atmosphere, the deleterious liquid rolling ever closer to his feet.
As Solomon obsessed in pitiful yearning, the rancid waters of the material Nile chose him as one of the followers of Pharaoh, and cast itself upon his polished shoes. He somehow looked into himself, feeling the filth scratching fanatically at his core. His stomach turned upside down from a radiating stench that now permeated into his being. He felt as though two iron cast nails, were being leisurely hammered into each temple of his head by two vultures, using just enough of their malice to peck the nails forward into his mind.
Solomon threw himself back from the onslaught of beguiled foul matter, and as he did he felt the foundations of his skeletal system bend like rubber. He felt himself becoming nothing, cascading down the swollen, dirty, flooded, abhorred river of ineluctable insentience and it gave him pain like nothing he had never known before. It was much like giving birth to rabid minks, over and over again for hours, finding the minks only claw their way through delicate flesh to crawl back into the mouth, choking out life as it is simultaneously given, the life itself wishing to return, but only being thrown back out, thus multiplying the shrieking rage of the newborn spirit, and turning it's will against its charitable provision of life.
Cursed matter dripped down from Solomon’s cheek, dragging with it his reality. Solomon's tears of regret and disbelief fell onto the shadow along with the waste, as the ever-fading now elementary being that he had become now attempted to run, but he only turned away to plummet to the ground, his hand turning to a thick paste-like sludge, connecting with the dust of the earth, becoming one with the inorganic patchwork of soil. He felt his mind was falling close to Armageddon, so close that now it was no longer falling, because it was just now beginning, to no longer be, was.
With disintegrating eyes he looked up, thinking it to be his last action of thought, his last stand. He saw an opaque wall of black, he saw nothing, or so he believed. Despair shimmied into the hall of memory, as it too faded; Solomon felt the strings of life being sliced by the witches three. However before his gaze could die with him, the darkness offered a quick spark of lucid flame. The glimpse of movement aroused Solomon’s sight to return for one last campaign, the visual heat snatching him from deaths jaws.
For a moment the spark dully jumped, retaining one area, as if it too, was about to die, but at the very next interval of measured time, inexplicably grew to a momentous flame, revealing before him, a bush, drenched now in ever moving energy. It gave Solomon light to gaze upon his melting body, and to see the reflection of the anonymous fire on his still-remaining, glimmering shoes. Solomon felt a reaction; he felt a movement within himself that acted with such ominous subtlety it caused him to immediately act. He vigorously cleaved the pair of aesthetics away from his feet, and let them touch the liberating coolness of the ground. Solomon hastily turned back to the bush, and as he did a wave of bruising, dominating heat smacked against him, rearranging the matter he had become back to its genesis, and forcing the lids of his eyes back, making Solomon unable to close them.
Solomon saw the bush flee away from him, and felt within him a divine ascension. The bush faded quickly into the distance, giving way to the passing of thick gray clouds, within them great storms of lighting and a never-ceasing galactic pressure, causing all that exists within its sphere to constantly be at all places and surroundings at once, and constantly colliding with itself. The clouds faded also, the storms within them becoming petite sparks themselves, revealed to be a part of the whole. Solomon now gazed at the entire earth, its spherical image sitting in the cradle of space, and it too, was aflame. With terrified but excited eyes Solomon peered, the heat of the earth's ember, beginning to singe more than his face and body, but persisting to purge him of substance which he could not identify, but the removal of the element made his skin tingle, his heart throb with pleasure, and gave him an orgasmic sensation. His eyelids lowered to an eastern holy position, and as they did so, Solomon ejaculated a verbal revelation, speaking to the earth with a voice now radiating across the plain of space, "I am."
Combustion of immense serenity engulfed him in sublime self-reverence, as he happily basked in the glow he had created for himself, watching the earth sit ignited. He found himself whisked away while remaining in one region, harmonious with all surrounding him, yet individually separate. This was a peaceful world, the one that was ablaze, being purged, but also being.
There was no time, so when the extravagant entanglement of inner enlightenment was suspended by the outside, it seemed as though it immediately occurred. The luminescent, scorching earth was eclipsed, by the image of a young, radiant, and beautiful girl, so close to womanhood, yet still imbibed with clean, pure, and innocent youth. Solomon's vision was violently collapsed by the image, and he found himself once again in the realm of determinism. All things returned to their former state, with the inclusion of their former normalcy, whatever meaning one can give to the term, so give it.
The girl facing Solomon stood tall for a female, thin with the subtle curves of lake waves, drifting daintily to the shore. Her eyes projected a sparkling effulgence of the color blue; impacting those would look on them, giving them the idea of a near perfect form, as if the very touch of a collective god of symmetrical genius was transmitted through her, making its frontier out of her essence. The kind of beauty that would inspire whosoever witnessed it to an utterly foolish gallantry, for the sake of its acknowledgement. The remainder of her being followed suit, the ideal woman; the arms of the Venus de Milo. Solomon gazed, deafened and numbed by the transferring from world to world, and the slap of material brilliance lodged now into his mind much like an axe, swung inhumanely, viciously into his skull. Thus, he had little, more of nothing to say, for he had little, or more of nothing to think.
This heavenly body now emerging, however, began the conversation, her voice as auditorally gargantuan in quality as her face was exquisite, her voice gave way to grandiloquence, but it seemed by her to be so earned that it was overlooked," You look lonely, why aren't you dancing with us?"
Solomon judgmentally eyed himself, and wondered unequivocally the same thing. The question stymied him. He simply looked up at the wondrous figure and smiled.
She answered immediately, as if Solomon had regurgitated everything he had ever known, and plotted it onto her mathematically," You drank a little too much huh?" she giggled, “Are you okay?"
He smirked at her experienced eyes, still shining like stars in Orion’s belt, beacons assaulting Solomon's face with light, and answered," Yeah I'm fine, I guess I just got a little lost."
She laughed," That's okay it happens to all of us. I kind of like it. It feels good just to let go you know? You should come dance with me, have some fun with us." After speaking she harpooned a smile into Solomon, forcing his legs to buckle, even though he was sitting down.
Solomon thought about this, contemplating dancing with such a glorious image of humanity, and concluded this was what he wanted, this was what the night was for; it had not yet been lost. Yet the experience he had only moments ago, his mind would not allow him to reject it, and let it fall to a gross, neglecting amnesia. He remembered the feeling the sight of the world in flame gave him, and the resonant grasp of utopia he had held onto in the vacuum without time, and longed to know whether that sensation and experience was real, or this girl, this spinning view of catapulting material splendor, was real, or even more real. What he concluded seemed foolproof. The aim of the man, was to achieve whatever pleasure is most achievable through the foremost means recognizable, so Solomon was now going to test reality, and it's honesty with itself.
"I'm not much of a dancer. I'd like to go somewhere alone with you."
Before Solomon’s inquisitive monitoring, the girl locked her lips together, forging a boisterous symbol of fertility and slightly squint her eyes, sharpening her features, illuminating her attitude, "I knew there was something about you I liked, come with me."
She took his hand, while Solomon still remained motionless with surprise, a feeling of successful recognition, and a similar furor of self he had experienced earlier, and began to lead him, as an urgent mistress, to a place of understood sensual privacy. Everything seemed a blur on the way to the holy place, behind the curtain of the temple, Solomon only recognizing iconic imagery: shining lights of the party, passersby in the darkness, legions worth of vehicles, the tall doorway of a house leading to a bright, open atrium, temporarily blinding his vision. He found himself, at the conclusion of the pilgrimage, returned into a dark place, which he assumed was a bedroom, the only light giving any rise to the assumption being a dim lamp, in a constant state of drowning in darkness.
In regaining his composure Solomon fixed his gaze on the angelic presence before him, now standing at the foot of a king sized bed, eloquently dressed with fine sheets, a hefty rose red comforter, and bulging terrific pillows all most likely ranging in the price of six hundred dollars. She removed whatever garments restraining her natural presence from the view of the world surrounding her, revealing an ethereal assortment of physical artistry, seemingly molding to the idea of human beauty, a body crafted from divine imagination. Solomon’s heart began to ravage his body, hammering over and over again, pulsating to a ubiquitous beat; the beat of creation, of life.
The girl floated along a river of atmospheric tension seeming to be unaffected by the great weight of physical reaction, and utilizing it for her advantage, and drifted to Solomon. She undressed him as if peeling dry, burned skin to reveal a new, emerging skin, pure and without profligacy. They both stood, ready to return to the womb, and the attractive essence wrapped her arms around Solomon, and gently fell back into an ocean of weightless sensuality. Solomon forgot all that had ever occurred in an instant, perceiving only the moment, only the viability of that which can be touched, that can be grasped by the body and thus the mind, but nothing therefore that the mind could grasp but the body could not, the presence of those anomalies was disallowed within the holy realm of the dynamic and entrancing practice of humanity.
Solomon fixed himself in her eyes, and those eyes only fixed themselves back at him, signifying physical syncracy. An overwhelming rush came over him, and swept him away into an unknown, distinguished realm of the senses, he felt achieved, he finally felt purpose, on a high mountain within the confines of his being he proclaimed to the mightiest in the heavens and the smallest within the infinite spaces of stuff, that the goal of his existence had been reached in this act, that after, he will forget all that plagued him, all that confronted him with the nature of things. He relaxed himself, and envisioned his body, floating on the calm waters of a disillusioned world all his own, for he knew all that was.
For another unknown amount of time, the area within the realm of omniscience radiated forth peace, and Solomon found himself on the seventh day of creation.
Soon however, a rumbling came forth from the depths, a raging quake, trembling violently. Solomon felt the tumultuous fury beginning to slash at him from the inside like a wild feline. He desperately jerked his hands to house themselves at the arms of the savior of his newfound reality, and felt his panicking digits fall into what felt like tightly compressed piles of grain. Fear told him to keep his eyes fortified, but reason unshackled the cuffs of delusion, and he sprung forth into the outside with his vision. The serene picture of allurement that had called him so majestically to the peak of discovery, was now eroding away, small portions all over the face beginning to chip off into small pieces of sand-like matter.
The rumbling persisted. Solomon’s stomach and legs tightened as he fought vigorously to free himself from this strange demon of time, its hour glass shape now brought into true meaning. He felt sensations of pleasure, followed by thousands of knife pricks, multiplying across his physical and mental body, out-roaring any sense of belonging or rest that had come onto him. Air and space seemed to race past, the entirety of his existence felt as though it was being thrust forward towards oblivion; he longed to escape, yet saw no possibility. The sands began to explode forth, gyrating across Solomon’s body, constraining him to their movement and control, which proved to have no meaning at all. Solomon felt a rising sensation along with a plethora of ongoing torments, a rainbow of sensation, thrusting him into an upcoming darkness, which he both loathed and wished for, for he could no longer guess the difference between the two. He met the darkness, and then he felt nothing.
He found himself in limbo, suspended within and without, of an area unknown to him. Pleasure had met demise in a horrid combination resulting in nothingness. He felt nothing, and could apply no meaning to anything at all, he felt he had followed a stream of light for too long, and now he could no longer tell what light was nor darkness. Alone he was drifting, and alone he felt, until once again he was awakened.
The morning light of the sun burst forth from a window facing Solomon’s once sleeping body. His eyes opened as if they were weary travelers slowly dragging themselves through a desolate valley. It took him only moments to recollect the truths of the night, but he forced himself to not acknowledge what he saw that couldn't be described. He desperately attempted to use the light of the new day's rising sun wash away the memories of his mysterious odyssey. As the light of the day granted him new life, he turned to see no one beside him in the bed, and his clothes strung out onto the floor at the foot of the resting piece of furniture. Solomon removed himself from the bed, and quickly put on his clothes, wasting no time in exiting this place of lingering contemplation. He hurried through corridors he had no memory of, and into the atrium that had blinded him the night before. Longing to escape more memories he also hurried past this as well, making sure to mark nothing of importance to recall later, and arrived at the outgoing to door, which to his surprise was open. He walked into the opening and found himself gazing into a wide plot of grassy land being illuminated by the sun sending its rays of light onto the morning dew, sparkling like glitter in its radiance.
Solomon felt rejuvenated from the sight, and looked closer to fully absorb the picture of nature that proved to be so glorious to him at this moment. He observed a white heal-all, poking up from the shining blades of grass, embracing the warmth of the sun, and glistening in the dew lazily cascading off of it. On the heal-all he saw an insect, moving every now and then, shuttering drastically as they do, and seemingly transporting itself around with no knowledge of direction or sense of reason. The insect jumped forth and spread its wings in furious motion, flying towards another surface to land to arbitrarily sputter about on. As it was on its way it was consumed, effortlessly, randomly by a frog. The frog plopped down onto the ground eradicating his quick meal, and continued on his way, seeking not rest, but the next chance to provide for himself the continuance of his life. He hopped along amongst the still shining grass, until the vicious, sharp teeth of a small canine ripped into his flesh. The dog happily consumed the animal, and dug at the ground while his chewed the frog up, and swallowed the meal, giving him sustenance. The petite dog scurried around aimlessly sniffing, looking up and around often, perking up its ears. It continued to sniff and scurry until it came across a tinkling bracelet, which shown brilliantly in the sun, more so than any of the grass or the creatures within it. The dog commenced in smelling the jewelry, and then snatched it up with a resounding snarl, and began to gnaw at the hard plastic. Then, what seemed to be a person emerged from behind a tree. They pointed their finger at the dog and harshly scolded it. The dog stood paralyzed in fear, still holding the sparkling bracelet within his jowls. The person snatched the ornament from his mouth, and wiped it with great conviction with a clean white cloth. After cleaning it they gazed upon it, ceremoniously lifting it up to the sun, as if its presence now invigorated their existence, and gave them a higher being. The individual smiled haughtily, and laughed under the suns brightness. The excited founder of the beautiful piece marveled in it and their self, while another person emerged from behind the tree. They ran to and confronted the holder of the beloved ornament. The founder of the sparkling device pushed his confronter away with the arm on which they were wearing the trinket. With great courage they seemed to proclaim themself worthy of the object and its beauty. Anger seeped into the other person whose wrist was devoid of sparkling dress, and they pushed the holder of the ornament with rage. The two began to scream at one another with great intensity and frivolous effort. The dog began to growl, howl, and bark ferociously at the two of them. More canines gathered around the two bellowing people, all barking and creating uproar in the air. Solomon began to see frogs emerging from the dirt and the grass, hundreds all gravitating, croaking loudly along the way, to the conflict. Behind them came thousands of flies, hovering above, creating a deafening buzzing noise, all of the sound creating a horrid vibration for all to feel. The two bickering humans at the center finally lost all reason to contain themselves, and clashed against one another, and as they did, so did the raging dogs, the shrieking frogs, and the swarming flies. Solomon gazed at these events, all occurring in the open underneath the refulgence of the sun, and saw that these beings had been betrayed by the bravery of their tinkling ornaments, thrust into a chaos encompassing all manner of meaning.
With a blink of the eyes the Solomon erased the vision that had fallen before him. He walked into the brightness of the sun, and felt no longer any need to hide from what was, or what wasn't. Solomon left that place.
He found himself at the foot of a church. He ascended white, stone steps to reach tall, thin, and elegant doors, which were also a cream white. Within them he could hear music, and much singing. Within those doors he also felt from a few, a strange feeling he had never known before, an alien and mysterious sensation that caused him from the depths of his being to embrace himself, and his thoughts. Solomon, with a newfound affinity, opened the doors.
People lined the pews from left to right, Solomon saw them as old oak trees, planted long ago, and found their presence small. But throughout the forest of oaks he saw a few who danced about within themselves with a great fury of revelation, discovery, and happiness. He made his way up the aisle, to find the young woman from the party watching him, a loving smile on her face. Solomon waded through the brush of knees to reach her, and take his seat at her side.
Still showing such a true smile, she spoke to him, “I’m glad you came, I thought you might have gotten scared."
Solomon returned the same true smile, “I found the bravery to make it."
The both of them smiled and dove into one another’s eyes to find another place without time or space. The girl put her hand on Solomon's again. He felt the reality again, the reality within the reality, the order within the absurd. Solomon could no longer acquire of whether or not he was swimming in a vision or hiking up rigid rocks of agreeable reality, but the touch of that hand made him somehow vicariously at peace. He sat back and smiled, as the world sat aflame once again.