And so now it is time to wander – cathartic and we do this these days without legs – most of the electric words we read take us places – sometimes to opinions – sometimes to news - sometimes to the history we never knew we had coming – sometimes to sin and idols (new and old). Within my electric words there are special places. New areas to go, a frontier waiting for me.
An electronic highway surges and I’m standing on a ridge. Angular. Sparse except for all the trees. Windy, apart from the stillness. So busy, with no one else here but me and the thumping remnants of my habits. It is both night and day here. Almost like it’s every day there ever was or will be. Colours come and scorch the horizon - like some kind of distorted aurora borealis it strains to impress me, to make me run from the empty tree line in to its pulsing hue. The colours? Pretty much all of them. Pulsing, swaying, capturing me and so exquisitely that I am in terror. It touches me! It pierces me! It destroys me. It breathes into me everything I ever needed as I die and am born again. Like a new baptism bursting through the seams of reality. Colour spraying everywhere, covering all and pouring from the ridge, a driving river, a deluge, cascading down. A waterfall of colour so vast it has no end and there now it pours ceaselessly from my mind as I lay at the edge of the trees. My darkened pit far below slowly fills and a vast lake of my colour now shimmers. And I lay there at the edge of this ridge, over looking my lake. And for an eternity I rest there. This world I occupy changes and I am raised and leveled, and raised again. I am an ocean floor and I am a canal and more. Then back to the unrelenting waterfall over looking my lake of colour. I made this lake. I made it with my electric words.