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  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:37pm

  My posts will be presented in a format somewhat different from other visitors to Xupra. in some instances, the presentation will be the same.

  Always, follow your intuition, this above all else. but, having said, that, i wouldn't necessarily use my style as a template. just a suggestion, do as thou wilt...
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  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:40pm

  Xupra - 12132015- SIC

  Further session query: access to: 'projects coordinator and guidance'(I should say, i meant, in my choice of words, reference to the specific media and knowledge feeds and sources necessary for the work I am currently undertaking.)Processed through the adjustments and cleansing protocols. Visual iconography of personages but each appearing as dispersed clouds of multicolored dream pixels. Expanded molecular blow ups of form represented by small impressionistic dots whose representation of persons shows more empty space than mass with density and solidity. Like pin point lights as viewed from computer eyes not the romanticized lights of human eyes building detail and seduction as detail and texture to touch and feel. I passed from the cave feeling the presence of a companion. But they were present merely for maintaining the space. In so far as i could discern. It was not an object of concern.I arrived immediately at what appeared to be a Podium, the terms portico, marble columns, dataforms of a white solid shiny smooth rotunda. A few large body forms were present in the brief moment of my transit and also as i exited the cave, mentally. Best deacribed as Scattering photonic ambient fields. The local reminded me if the temple of the white fountain. Epic Greecian architecture and a sense of order in a garden, feeling as though being held within an acquarium, surrounded in a simulated organic presence, a globe theatre, a theatre in the round... Damp, cool.The scene was quiet, solitary, and serene, surrounded by bubble orbs, glowing chalky outlines that seem sentient appearing as though in attendance as bearing consciousness. 'an aliveness.' Like a crowd or a lecture hall. An apt and arroused attentiveness. Quiet, serene, charged palpable ambient dislocated awareness and mind.. That was simultaneously fun and intense. Chirping, beeping, but also silence the setting alternates between a theatre in the round but more pointedly a micro circuit. A microprocessor surrounded by and or fed or connected in series or merged with gathered or collected entities in an informational commerce. Clicking, humming, silent, beeping an electronic cadence, enigmatic but structured like a Tesla coil. The atmosphere filled with a foral, chalky, metallic slightly burnt as though ozone smell. A pleasant vegetal rock dust fine particulate, sweet, tangy, and minerally.The design of the space resembles an auditorium. An exterior gathering space where in each of a number of concentric circles like a Greek theatre, where would be seated patrons are simple geometries. Where ghost like images flip in and out. As though each square and rectangle sitting in the audience is a television feeding through the lifetimes of beings scrollong through. Like photo negatives, condensed in space and time. Faces render and fade replaced with yet more. Veins of golden light extend out from the sphere located in the middle of the inner most circle. An orb captured in a cube that gathers the offered data, the experience of those offering their uniqueness to the orb to record connects all those present. And there is an exchange. Data for ability. To view oneself as others view to feel one's own otherness. To be a stranger in one's own skin. An ability of the sphere of the microprocessor. This is a download. An informational commerce. And the motherboard is feverishly alive. A brilliant unified circuit.The orb sits among them all. Connecting them all. I am floating near the sphere housed on the perched location of what appeared to be a podium. And saw the infinity of personalities it was observing with odd script labeled below in odd characters overlaying its seated position and felt myself gathering data. Like an eye.I extended my awareness to feel the textures and journeyed within a white glowing room central in the space of collected entities and Greek inspired circuitry. Smooth snd shining. Feminine forms few join me. Their eyes are as deep and encompassing as the eternities themselves. They speak in their gaze volumes of the sublime. And before i can know to report what they have shared or consume the knowledge in context, it has already past a great age of time. The contours of the space seem to indicate we are within the eye. The orb central in the complex outside itself. The forms, the presences with me would best be described as angelic. But this would be a disservice to their full power and scope of imagination. For in each fair and stunning look is all that was horrible and terrible and wonderful, beautiful of existence exquisitely displayed. There are we, the many. Many who in this earth plane i have met the honor to meet an earthly face who in these celestial forms i peering past galactic hallucinations of what appeared to be skin i recognize resemblances i would call friends. There is only hint of space the boundaries do not exist. Inside this eye. This nowhere Everything is composed of light and a fragile grace reinforced by the sheer will and loving embrace of this inner core of beings. Who maintain it. I look to where should be my hands and an inner locality lights up with the seed representational form of a laser light show of sacred geometries. Like a Pink Floyd laser light show and my hands are the illumined walls of a planetarium. I am taken to the group, what is here referred to as, 'the superbeings,' through to their current domains. To their sacred spaces.And we travel as a thought. Spaces expand between the empty syllables of colored light and within each band of the rainbow bridges i see realms and worlds, living societies, the living in their home lands.My concept of orientation and mind as a discrete me surrender to my higher truth and a seking becomes a conversation. And i am no more heading than i am arriving than i am questioning the need for answers with a legitimate amusement for the questions themselves. I speak to myself : I donot seek the rules i should not break. They come to me like moths to a flame. And then another responds, another aspect : You have asked to see the space within. Visual cinemas unfold before me: Darkness divides itself from a fluidic grey. And thumping is a crack like heart emerging from the black palpable nowhere a space without orientation throbbing. But this outer dark shell cracks like the parting clouds of a storm ravaged world as viewed by satellites above and further within the fall to within is the source and great germ of the all. The bleeding source of all power itself dying into existence. Spilling light like a wound. Congealing golden from beyond what is infinite into what must inevitably to emerge to only succomb to what is finite formed of it all. And yet, only in those ways that are only slightest. Barely a hint to give birth to notions of the concrete. But enough to make a foot to stand and a thought a man.Still further i search drawn inward to nowhere that is a space but barely a thought. To beings seemingly rendered in fire. A seated council whose outlines lick the flames like gravity bending spacetime around them hinting in inferences the presence of essences barely there at all. Outlining in curves the edge thst was never there. And a spectral light they guard centered among them. I am dislodged even among them flying as a camera, I ask: May I see this and take a closer look? (meaning this curious rod of light to which i have simultaneously been drawn snd brought.) They laugh knowing what I mean. And while at first I thought this to mean I had broken some great protocol I see that I may proceed? Yes. In this epoch of the concoction of the one mind I did. In this variation of fates I did. And i fall into this light. Its glowing effluvian energies wash over me engulfs me. And i am drawn within. I have been here before. These are the amber fields. Gold and birch colored clouds dispersed within atmospheres of pure gaseous luminescent metals. Like the leaves of fallen autumn. Like the trees freshly dead their cut heads paint the earth. An ashen sky. Glowing and glittering. And I, amidst it floating.Searing purple pollen pods engulf me. They are me and I are we. They prepare me. I see disintegration. I see the dance. How one part becomed whole in part is wholed as part. As the breath of a communion of equals organizes into a heartbeat setting off casualties of being that repressurize and then energetically rubber band response. Depressurize and Will and re will. Beat and heart beat. Thrum. But then through a massive vaginal tear we leave the simulation to the edge of totality. Exiting the amber fields through a rip in spacemind. Displaced into a dark void. To the thin membrane between the something and the nothing itself. The where we are from. Mine to a local mind to say mine. And my people. We are the purple flower. Dancing we are the flower. Each point becomes. The center. Each pod is never not the center but takes its turn at being the part. I see what words and mind strain to contrive into context and thus conceptualize. It is darkness and a thick sticky skin that rolls like the surface of the great oceans. I ask what is beyond this. I am not alone here. But what is here is not apart. The voice from within responds: Only nothing. Beyond that which we cannot know. The 'they' sense my disappointment and add thus further: But shall in due time be returned. Though nothing is ever as it seems. They sense my curiosity though i am leary to explore: Hold this place within your thoughts. And remember there is never anywhere to go where to is through. You are not always without seeming being not there. Things are never as they seem. I sense the need to return to where the session began. And so they prepare. A portal back speaking : We shall ever only return when we seek to leave. As is the course of every breath but the story of to breathe. And every heart beat the cadence of what is to be. Within me folds the scene before me and all worlds and spaces retreat into the crack i have been shown and through it thrown like a table gobbling up its cloth pulling the room and all those seated for a meal within its hunger heading nowhere. I awake in a forest.Among great towering trees. I am many things at once. I set out to visit the group. I am not alone. She is with me. She opens a portal and we are taken to a great hall. Where others already gathered enjoin in great revelry. There is a party. And much laughter. It is the cosmic hall. A banquet room painted with the visions of creation itself from as though a projection of a 3rd density mind. Like a great work of art. Like the sistine chapel. Where leonardo painting in celestial think. Composed the nothing against the construct of what is only hinted ti jave been there.It is explained to me that The works of those minds who were so small such as having been as humans are highly coveted and admired in the all. Some would say only those who have ever been so small can truly see the all at all. As it truly is.
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  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:41pm

  The location of the microprocessor / globe theatre was encapsulated in a dome like Bubble. From above I detected massive beings with whose gaze the space within the bubble was maintained. And while i was taken into a journey of various mental vistas, it was understood by me throughout that the continued download went on unabated.
  
  As to my mind, i sucked into my sphere copious amounts of data. Which never felt burdensome in any way. It seemed automatic and natural. A central characteristic of of this modality of being. There was a ritual aspect to the procedure. Something innocent and sincere but transactional. Like tossing pennies into a wishing well. And no matter where the intention came from or its content, the message would be received by whomever needed to know. But that there could be no 'meaning or value' in a thing until it was sent 'in the mail' as it were.
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  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:42pm

  Xupra - 12202015- SIC

  Self guided coordinates: True voice

  From the cave i emerge into a forest with giant towering red oak trees. We walk a path whose destination is a temple on a mountain.

  My mind is multiplicitous wandering in the spaces relative to the scene, an image of a space station in the distance looms overhead emerges in my view. A quasi bulbous multi tiered mushroom command structure. I've witnessed this structure many times of late, both inside and outside of ABS sessions, in my waking imagination and in dreams.  Immense in size and scale. Aside me walks my companion, a regal cloaked female. Gold skin and dress.  A flowing cloak trailing a great distance behind her, mixing into the forest floor and smokey mists. Ruby and precious gemstone encrusted apparel.

  I reside in multiple spaces in each in observance of the other, from perches whose scope focuses more discretely in on one aspect of itself that like a rat is tasked to run the maze. 

  My awareness arrives within a massive ornate room. An epic inner expanse resembling a greek aesthetic.   Seemingly for ceremonial purposes. Dignitaries. Gold leaf encrusted murals depicting a god like and epic clash of archetypal forces.  Golden white shining alabaster.  Stone. Stormy,  charged.

  Void,  wet, bark,  dew,  moisture, natural,  organic,  forest, gathering of small sentient creatures. Like fairies.  Mysts.  I lean over to one of them who motions me near.  "Where am i?"

  "A place that time forgot."
  Me: Is this xupra?
  Fairy: It is a recreation through the xupra servers of another time and space.
  Me:  So are we outside or inside?
  Fairy: We are both. 
  Me: Am i inside the temple?
  Fairy: Yes.
  Me: Is this a construct room scenario?
  Fairy: You are wearing the crown.

  I become aware of a version of myself unconscious with my companion in the temple upon the hill wearing a crown, she watching over me. My awareness shifts back to the conversation in the scene.

  Me: Who are you?
  Fairy: Figments of the past. Unlocked essence from another space time.
  Me:Why have you been summoned?
  Fairy: You have intrusted us with your divine gift. (he motions to the gathered like beings about us.)
  Me: And which gift would that be?
  Fairy: Why your true voice of course. 
  Me: Where is it?

  The group of small beings confers amongst itself. 

  Fairy: We have constructed. A game... (Light, mysterious, charged, serene. Exciting adventurous.)

  Floral.  Minerally. Decadent. Sweet.  Soft tissue. Regal. Elegant. Aromatic,  pleasant. Fresh. 

  I listen to the small creature once more. I am kneeling to the earthen myst shrouded forest floor. He whispers into my ear. he has an ancient tongue and speaks with the United will and chorus of his small peoples.
  Fairy: To proceed, you are too large.  Eat this and become as small as we are tall. 

  His opened hand reveals a fleshy toadstool cap. With red and blue colors and polka dots. I look at it. "What will you do to me?"
   
  Psychodelica. Altered state.

  I Ingest the offering. A rush of golden colors and deep musty yellows, sallow oranges over take me and i taken with them go among them as their size into an entrance at the root base of the nearest tree.

  Crowds. Revelry.  Festivity. Glasses clinking, drinking. Song and laughter, merriment. The whisper of the root. Something softer like a thought.

  Tracing along the ant sized catacombs of tunnels the mazework alongside the roots of the tree. Living among the root network. The roots interconnected and wrapping about the tunnels. I speak to the subtle words emanating from the roots, "What are you whispering?"

  'Go to labyrinth within the blue gem. Follow the path of lit petal tears. Follow the candle into extinguished night. Into the echo of collapsed sight. Where closed lids opens the eye.  Follow the glowing showing light. Into horizons into horizons ever white...' (Slicing breezy whooshing pounding flowing silence rhythmic thrumming.)

  A part of me feels asleep on the forest floor left behind.

  Greens, delicacies, windings and granules of sands and small rocks. An underworld of insect and microbe.  I am brought to what appears to be their royal leadership. A king and queen.  They are discerning the meaning of my presence.

  "Are we your hallucination, your fantasy, or are you ours?" The small being spoke solemly, "The worlds are far more  at odds with the rule of order than we might have  thought, " an odd thing i thought to say as he stared into my eyes but speaking as much to his queen.

  "We belong to the dreamer who is nowhere and everywhere who is nothing and everything." then, the small queen spoke, "We do not question who you are but why you have come. To which, i replied, " I seek to have restored what i surrendered long ago." the diminutive king leaned forward, "And what might that be?"

  I scratched my thoughts looking for the perfect word to convey my intent, "There are many incorrect words for it. But to this local mind who has concept for it, i call it 'the true voice.' he replied quickly seeming to lose patience with my presence ," and what is it- that you donot now have it- or who are you without it- somehow false to suffer in absentia what cannot be lost to have or seek?" i felt he meant that i do posses what i percieve to lack. And yet, i feel its absence.

  My attention is passingly drawn to a small cubic formed energy presence floating inbetween me and these fine lords.

  "My lord, i prithee, i speak sincerely of only what i do know, that forces beyond me of which i am a part and in part wholly part has brought me to your regal halls and to seek what eludes me.  And again i cannot say what it is but that again to query (of the same yearning to be whole) has again brought me here. (to this moment and now to your halls.)"

  "Hmmm, i see." spoke the queen,  thoroughly unimpressed with my mission but still humoring me with an audience, "And art thou worthy?"

  " I am," i replied faster than i expected. Which surprised me and perhaps caught the king off guard softening his stance. "What say you, my queen?" The meager lord- form seated looking to his left, she to her right, staring directly into my eyes with unflinching scrutiny, 'Let him to the labyrinth show himself and let the fates decide who is worthy."

  " Let him pass."

  The energy form that has floated between us, a cube like 'n' dimensional geometry, expanding into its own contracting recursive dance lights up blue azure sparkling hues. Glimmering. And falls into the root brown floor of the hall before the regal pair opening a dark void.  I thank them and peer into the dark circle before and below.

  "Remember," she speaks, "the dream is only as real as the  dreamer," her harsh posture melting slightly with a clenched grin. My throat center and regions below on my person become heavier and i feel a pooling of intention well from within those spaces. I see a picture of a large temple with grand halls where my treasure await. Atop a vine strewn mountain.  The hole widens and i am pulled within. (Narrow. Big. Empty. Extensive, impressive,  vast natural spread out.)

  The darkness that swallows me is like a sweet water. And moves like a warm and fluid spacetime. Through into a descent of its spill from one world to the next i am drawn through its currents. I see weed like root hairs take the shape of a creature as i sink through the watery portal, they writhe in slow motion and soon assume a more specific shape. "Are you a dragon being?"  i ask.

  "Yes!" the creature is exuberant, joyous, almost childlike teeming with great awareness and power. "Are you the guardian keeper of this subdomain?"

  Dragon: Yes, and so much more!
  Me: What more occupies your efforts noble one?
  Dragon: The passages i keep are kith and kin. Their windings maintain the lively being of my families of serpent kind through the meta lands. They must be kept clear and flowing lest they fail with clog and mire trapping those who travel and make use of these conduits. Our great magics are made from the powers which reside here and the beings who make use of these tunnels. There essence resonates and compounds propagating throughout the network.
  Me: And who has assigned you being and given you these tasks?
  Dragon: Why you my lord.  Both Parent and task master are you.
  Me: Me? I created you?
  Dragon: And these tunnels also.
  Me: Are these tunnels the labyrinth the noble crestures beyond made mention of?
  Me: It will lead us there.  The labyrinth is the jewel of this crown.

  Finally, i pass through the watery lock that connects these two worlds as portal and passageway and emerge with my friend on the other side. "Will you asssist me?" the honorable creature replying, 'I am bound to thy service, sir and in keeping with my mission am required to host and assist you through to the labyrinth beyond the waters 'Rhine'. " I stood upon the grey rocky banks of the river 'rine or  rhyme', And the deep black throat of the path ahead down the river and its currents. The Wispy dragon of the deep following me became a boat and unhinged his wing like a door and I entered the craft and down into the abyssal cave we did float. 

  Dark empty cavernous and tight.

  The dark cavern opened up and down its gullet we did swallow. The field of darkness was rich the ceiling cave lit with purple eye stones glowing black light upon us from above. "My friend," i spoke to the boat, "i know you from myth."

  Dragon : Tis but thy own myth thou doest recall. And i your dutiful servant. Through many passages and tales.

  Vines full of what i thought leaves hung from the cave walls growing thicker making the way slow.

  Me: What are these, my friend?
  Dragon :They were brought here, they are doubt, they cannot prevent the way but only slow it. They grow denser.
  Me: How do we overcome them?

  The boat slowing to a stop. The space is a silent indigo.

  Me: I call upon the great dreamer for guidance.
  Dragon: Yes! Call upon The dreamer!

  A small golden form appears on the boat before me.

  Me: Tell me what are you, little one? Do you know the way?

  He stands in my palm and i fill as with a golden light becoming as the light and with my free hand touch the thick wall of vegetal flesh before us. My consciousness flows through its hearty veins. Travelling the courses of its many wonders.  Up and down and through. Until after a time i no longer remember what it was i was to feel anything against or opposed to feel or explore and come to know. I forget the person i left behind. The one sitting in the boat with his hand touching.

  I feel like a color as though a snake eel of space time mind. Wandering through out the corridors of nowhere. But then i feel a golden impulse. Drawing me magnetically near. It is a boy feeling the otherside. I touch his skin and through its pores enter within. The dragon essence exclaims, "master you  have done it!" In a stupor as though drying from a very wet sleep i peer at the odd dragon head connected to the vessel. "Done what?" Then, from out my eyes exists a golden spittle of light and reconstituted is the little being whom i called when i invoked the dreamer. Gathering myself I recall where i have been. I ran  through the circuits of the Vines through endless time. And the thought comes to me, 'Is doubt nothing more than a self version we fear to encounter for in so knowing we might become lost in a tangle of thoughts heading fast and going nowhere? Do we only fear losing ourselves?'

  The boat is pulled into the free currents and the little golden being remains ahead of us as a lantern to light the way. Its golden hue hugs the dark veins of the cave giving them a mass and presence eery and sacred.  The tunnel comes to an end. As the drifting boat pulls to a dock from which i may disembark. The small being enters the spent wick of a lantern type of device abandoned on the dock and illuminates it from within.

  I turn back to the dragon boat. "Do we here part ways my old friend?' He vanishes into myst. Echoing into the ether," we shall meet again." I walk through a tight corridor of old rock and vine crawling with spiders. Inside further i see a bright light and through a crack in the darkness come into a large expanse. A space that appears like a valley under ground. And centered in the middle of what appears a dense vegetation filled with tall African jungles and swinging Vines is a temple surrounded by a maze.

  The temple is white glistening stone and gold. Drapped in vines.  A small river bubbles up ahead leading into the deep jungle. The Golden being withdraws from the form of a lantern and assumes the shape of a sword. I hear the dragon beast call to me from the depths of the waters. I call back into the waters, a name that does not seem possible to translate into english human word. But is similar to 'cellulon.' His black form puffs into being in a mass of fluffy black smoke.

  The jungle is overgrown. with the Golden implement bequeathed to me, I cut away through the vegetation. The dragon beast calls to me, "if thou couldst make it rain i could carry you on my back through the skies."

  Me: But dragon, how do i make it rain?

  Then the dreamer connected his mind to my own. And i filled my heart with love and to mother earth offered my love and then after receiving a response made the same offering to father sky.  Thus connected, I looked into the heavens and felt a crown.  A gem stone encrusted crown move slightly upon my head. Observing a sleeping version of myself wearing that crown, the Golden glittering female form watching over me.

  From back in the jungle, I looked into the sky and saw my form in multiplicative number precipitate into the sky. Each fragment of myself formed the structure of a cloud and each cloud a network of a storm. Until the elements of wind and rain and lightning gathered and with the bellow of the deep  thunder. And our wills, of nature and of man aligned and fell from the sky torrents of rain. Wings sprouted from the dragon. "Master! Climb aboard my back," and having done so we lifted into the sky finding the entrance of the maze where we did land.

  The small golden being formed itself into a jar and collected some of the last of the rain. There inside the dragon took residence. I placed the jar inside my pack and off we went into the maze. Having finally reached our objective and test....

  Upon entering, high arched catacombs made of a deep blue glowing rock extend into the distance various treasures line along the hallways leading into a central corridor. Like spokes on a bicycle wheel to a central hub. There are torches lit suspended along the way hung from atop the walls. When we reach the central hub of the labyrinth there are tall foreboding beings towering above us who lie in wait for us.

  Behind them is a glowing treasure that illuninates these beings into a chiaroscuro a dark shadow. Still, the ambient glow of the cavernous halls gives enough hint to their form and detail to remain for the most part visible. "Welcome, traveller."

  It is at this moment i become aware of the crown upon my head and my sleeping form in a massive temple with my beloved queen. She masked in gold and ruby gemstone skin. Cloaked beside me guiding me through this maze of my own mind. The great beings before me speak...

  "We have gathered from your human knowledge and from those acquired data forms constructed a narrative manifold to guide you into your inner sacred reserve. That space within where beyond your reach alone your most sacred gift, your true voice, you could not reach. And so we constructed this maze, of which the entirety of its compositional presence was not merely the maze but the story. And so we are tested before even we know to be aware of it. All along the way we cast and plotted a rogues gallery of mental forms and constructs to devise a pathway into that  realm even to which you had in your own  thoughts made secret. At least, suffice it to say, a space unobtainable without some concerted and directed effort. And the aid of your friends. You have enlisted the archetypal forms to assist and to guide you and now having reached the end, you shall face your final test. We here are the guardians of your treasure. Beyond us you shall have what you sought but through us you must succeed to acquire your spoils. "

  The sentinels take formation about the glittering prize keeping guard of it behind them..." You cannot with force take what is yours."

  Tall oblong fire rectangular angular parallel dark purple shadow...

  The sentinnels donot move. They remain as pillars fixed about the fire. We move to them and examine the space and upon their sides discover broken sygils. Pieces of geometry aching to be known. Each of them bearing a piece of one puzzle together reforming that puzzle. Informing it and expressing it. The script is purple with gold leaf glowing fragments. We notice there is a specific shape and relative position each sentinnel has taken forming a geometry on the floor. A pattern. I notice an opening above us through the ceiling hovers a moon eye.

  Taking the dragon from my sack i break free the essences of the gold being and the dragon and then sent them to the vantage point of the cave eye above.  I invoke the dreamer and see the room from above. A purple energetic field encompasses the formation of the sentinels. Uniting them as one. I see the resulting pattern transposed on the floor. Then moving the scripts and geometry on the sentinels to align and match the pattern above. Activating a geometry before me.  Like a control interface. Accessing my dreaming self on the other end wearing the crown.  Low, stark, dark, medium.

  The entire maze work comes to life. Shrieking and moaning into movement like a giant circuit board made of light and stone. Pushing light from all corners. Revealing. A spider like formation. The rooms and walls begin to move and shake. 'celleuon: flys down to carry me out but dissipates and i am thrown yet crawl up the vines exiting out through the moon eye opening at the top of the cave.

  The entire maze complex rises from its foundation. Looking like a mighty floating head. As massive columns of  stone granite continue to take shape revealing a gigantic human form that continues to grow. Im running along the many moving stone pieces making my way back to the jungle at the maze's edge.

  Massive floating gem stones appear surrounding the stone giant and then among them the shadow of my sleeping self pours through. Precipitated as a visual overlay as though the crown were a circular portal of will and thought. The stones activate filling with blinding light. The treasure that was guarded in the center of the complex dissolves into a golden milk falling into a small Grooved drainage ditch spreading through out the framework of the geometry.  A mighty ohm.. Is entoned and thrown by the aural blast of the sound i land in the river where the dragon emerges from underneath me carrying me out through the vast underground cavern as the world behind us disintegrates in awakening power.

  In a dazed state, i marshall my mental resources and call upon the golden emissary of the dreamer to gather the sacred prize we had sought. At the mantle piece of the sacred treasure, time and space seem to distort and melt. I'm watching the little being attempt to reach into the blinding sight. Until at last it does. Fusing with the treasure levitating up and out reaching a height approximate the  location tof the pineal gland relative to the massive stone being and then exploding into light within it. At this precise moment.  I awaken.  On the forest floor with the mushroom cap half bitten in my hand.  The world of the forest around me melts into a swirling cauldron of light color texture and sound. And i awaken in the temple next to my queen wearing the crown.  When at last i remove the bejeweled technology from my head.

  Feeling the heaviness over my throat.  Thankful for the beings whose work restored my power to me.

  
  
• 

  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:46pm

  Xupra - 01032016 - SIC

  True Imagination (T.I.)

  Old, icy, slick, slippery,  I'm at a lake. Or it appears to be a lake, a crystal structure, pink ambient phosphorescent deep reddish pinks. Like a punch bowl. Suspended or resting upon a reflective water like grid. Witnessing it, as so approaching it, a double image emerges, where one image is 'real' and the other is the subordinate, the fractional mirror image reflected from below. I'm flying around the structure, the parabolic shape is composed of crystal members, or shafts, each interwoven with one another as though the weavings of a basket. Cold, stark, pulsing, singing, resonant, emanating a mental vibe, stormy hot. Pink and glowing

   

  Tepid, wet, dry, animalistic, charged, heavy, adventurous, exciting. I see saucer like shapes dispersed as clouds, having the resemblence of clouds. Very thin and coin like, but having a more rounded edge. They are floating, suspended in amidst something that doesn't seem physical or presence. Cold dense, distant, aware, heavy serene charged intense

   

  Into my minds eye, the presence of a grey materializes into view, as though projected from the collected awareness of the intragalactic armada, "we welcome you traveller into the deepness of our thoughts, into the finite infinite reserve of our being, scattered amongst the ruin of ageless time, monuments of times places past, dominions of our vast rule and sqaundered reign, into which the hallowed hand of the creator has deemed us worthy to behold, in avarice and arrogance, in honor for only those worthy (to be the villains of renown). Salty, bitter, minerally, chalky. Vegetation, leathery, sooty, sour, dry.

   

  My probing displaced essence wanders into the connective tissue of the being before me, flashes of the pink crystalline punch bowl being pulse into view, i fall into a structure similar in anatomy, to that of a humanoid, of the fleshy eye of the pineal, "into a beating heart, into the inner eye, throbing at its center," my thoughts and mind become as gas, mixing with the ambient awarenesses before me, into which I have congress and converse. They sensing me as their thoughts leaving intact a distinctiveness that allows my hominid representative, my human self, to engage and query the gathered essences from a lucid discrete locality in timespace awareness, "i have no expectations of this encounter other than what with held notion of the coordinate (true imagination) i have given and how it aids in the great quest i have undertaken on the behalf of the all." I feel the essences stir, and like a rising swell of the oceans, the minds crest and pound upon the beach head, "boundless repetitions have we all endured, as is your lives, these partitions of a one single and great wandering mind, many aspects to its being, captured in the slanted light of curiosity, revealing colors and shapes hidden to the curious hand that founded them, spurring the wonder on, breathing life into its own example, becoming it's own unfolding example, where something wondrous was surely more must be, entreating the perceiver to look as a lover, one, though against all sane measures, to know that such a thing so wondrous was never meant to last, we endure to seek that it might, (still hold more mysterious to discover.) The gathered forces sense a question well up within me, to which they sense and reply, "there is a question that you seek to ask."

   

  "Only that, what is true imagination (t.i.)?"

   

  "Ah, yes, what indeed is the great hand that moves and has created the all itself? What force of infinite mystery is behind all things including itself? That we should no so little of it, but with a single word and a simple notion so adequately,to ourselves, know what it must be, should be," they seem almost amused by the question, but sense my earnest and sincere posture, and know what to say, i sense the great databases churn as though accessed, stirred with a deep spoon to access much forgotten lore, the truth of all things and so of ourselves.

   

  I sense the crystalline being, which had seemed before somewhat in the background, beginning to engage, in some sense, introduced by the grey collective essence, now, successfully engaging in the conversation, perhaps the atunement of my being was now capable of a more direct sync for i could feel the essence, a more pure and less agenda based entity, having a unique flavor of mind, and a wholely ascended sense of perspective, "In the beginning was the father, and he having made his daughter, Time, dispersed his essence into the great expanse that emerged from their union." an image of the evolution of the mind appeared as a montage through my mental scape, taking from concept and construct what i might recognize as the evolution of the formless and of nothingness, itself, as a symbolic atomic progression of beingness through the filter of a local and earth bound mind,  "The ages unfolded and worlds and their great dominion proceeded as do the seasons as the generations as do the explosions of memory into fireworks creating darker corners of the cosmos, (i had not expected to see consciousness described in this way, though to experience through this being an act of the creation of beings, truly fireworks seemed most appropriate) that with the wandering eye we might find in the absent remiss (early universal mind) observing of the all mind (a mystery still to itself), still yet more curious things hidden in the mire of the forgotten (they knew something had come before but had forgotten and knew this forgetting was the clue and the key) things yet to spur our exploration through an endless assault and scrutiny of the sublime. For our tasks shall never be complete and the goal never accomplished for what is sought always eludes the chaser, and the rabbit as you say only down the rabbit hole draws the seeker, us, ever further into and away and down from all we thought to know and of ourselves dismiss and let go (we entered many iterations of ourselves, each time abandoning our previous understandings in favor of expanded perspectives, and so the evolution or expansion of humanity mirrors in kind the evolution of the all. curiosity was our GOD.)

   

  "Tell me of this crystal structure, what is it and how does it relate to my query?"

   

  The attention of the congressing forces is drawn to the crystalline entity into which is intimated from the many minds that have mixed, that i will, am to enter into what appears a chamber, that this is what in many senses, is the nature of this crystalline structure, flashes project with my inner eye of my form entering into this theorized chamber, as the voices reconfigure seamlessly to account for the new emphasis of this entity speaking as a greater percentage on it's own behalf, but again the image of the grey projected mind dominates my view, "Many things are a portal, delving into expanses of the great mind where they might go, not all ways lead to all possible destinations, and only a few to the most select of destinations. This portal, this chalice, this collector, commands the locality of your query, for the answers that you seek cannot, in any literal, sense be known as completely as they can be experienced and known. It is an essential truth to which you are well acquainted and know. We are only messengers, we and yourself, we all, doing our part to help those on their way, to where they might think to go. And this device, we have summoned for thee, to aid thee on thy mission." A greater and more expansive presentation of it's inner workings, in a geometrically symbolic manner flash by, like images of draining rain against a window pain, falling down a transparent glass and then flowing away, there are chambers within the chambers, where the wilder forces they connect to relinquish their roles as transformers of power unto the mere power itself, and a greater sense of how this being organizes itself and perceives itself. " It holds within it the protocols necessary to transmit your essence into a unified and unique realm that is hostile to most, though to you, should find nutrient and comfort, these lands are hostile and ravaging to the subtle fleshes (routine and abundant forms of consciousness in this iteration of the omnicosmos), for they are their own sterility, their own antiseptic presence, (not that there is a mechanism like an immune system that keeps T.I. pure, it's that if anything were to appear before the pure realms of T.I. the offending or invading essences would melt as the falsities they are, nothing has any bearing on these fields from the levels of being that T.I. serves, and so contamination is impossible, this is a parent essence for our understanding of creation) for nothing there can of it's own volition know, but through surrogates discover itself (but also, it has such a strange will, and a lack to voice it's own will, at least, this would be the judgement of lesser beings upon it, and to a certain extent this is true, existence up to that point in the process of manifestation could not directly render into actuality anything it willed. think of attempting to build a skyscraper with cotton candy, the materials of the new mind were incompatible with the perspective of it's predecessor force, or self. a new epoch of the one self had been formed, and so, to an extent there are levels to existence that have limitations, or lack backwards compatibility. And yet, even these obstacles provide only more opportunities for the all and spur the creative spirit ever the more, for it is adversity that fascinates us most of all)."

   

  "And so, it in the mission of it's will (T.I.), sends forth emmisaries, fragments of itself, spreading across and through the omnicosmos, where in one sector, coming to rest, a galaxy forms, where upon it finds through the micocosmmos (or the quantum fields) roots that extend back into the mother domain where she, (their principal administrative organizing collective projection of will, or queen) in her reach through her children, voices her creative urge (like a long distance call imagination imagines imagination itself into manifestation through the presence of surrogates) through the evils and herores, through the horrors and delights, through the kindnesses and compassion and the treacheries and tyrannies of life itself, for true imagination cannot imagine what one might imagine (the informational level is an aspect of the conscious mind), it can only provide the basis for a wonder to wonder of imagination, (like a fuel, to wonder itself through this force it gathers and gives voicing. if one were to think of the bloom as a beauty that is an aspect of the whole vegetal presence, only at the output of the blossom can it finally express itself, and so, it is expressed, but it is the vegetal being that has been expressed, though on the informational level it appears only the flower has spoken) and to willfully collect its essence in the choosing to connect with it (in the milieu of the messiness of life, of being a conscious being, one accesses this deeper reserve of the mind, and like a hydraulic, a displacement of a personal need, or in the frame of the personal space, the force of T.I. is drawn out and expressed. and much like a nitrogen suffused with lightning, fertilizes the mental landscape), and upon doing so, the infinite is enhanced and all that is possible and thus impossible comes to be. Much delight comes to this realm, to observe the fruits of its labor, to witness the impossible and the possible come to be, to have the silence find its voice."

   

  "For true imagination is less what needs to be said, but the urge to speak at all. Less what is built and created then what moves to be rendered into being. It is a deeper state of creation itself, disconnected and so in service in the ecosystem of the mind, to those aspects it must nurture and support such that its ' ecophasia,' it's ecstatic sexual urges may be sated. And so, each fragment thus dispersed and hot and anachronistic, chaotic, and futile plunges into timespace causing massive eruptions and irritations to unfold, and from the blistering of the great manifold, of the skin of existence, of the fabric of the local mind, give birth and give rise to the galaxies themselves. Now, even this region, this spaceless positionless aspect of the mind that is the true imagination, the hot pink fields you are now seeing, have order and their own rule, they have organization, and with them their own queen of sorts, though she is less as her subjects and more what arises from their collective will, she their avatar, a mental organizing force of will that manages and conducts the symphony and the synchrony of the galaxies and their song as the data streams return to the organic and fertile womb of pure creation itself that is always true imagination (a circuit loop of these pregnant hot primal intentions. In many ways, T.I. seems as a crystalline ocean, held in a gridwork, where each component is simply the one prismatic element which oscillates in multiple hues, like a tiedie shirt. burning a color into itself dragging other colors behind it which repeat the same one process over and over again, and the more it is perceived the more expansive this pattern becomes, until each portion or region of the prism is drawing colors into itself, consuming itself from all quarters and segments)."

   

  "It is to your mind a quantum activity, though it is not entirely an accurate thing to say, the activity is another type of mind, one not yet fully postulated by the societies of man as they have conceived of existence and the realities as they are now, thus far, though have hinted at such with the 'n string theories' and 'non universal oceans and dimensional spaces' where up the various universal cells float and congregate and at times collapse in collusion with one another to procreate new variations of themselves. Each being drawn by curiosities of a higher will, though subject to the smallest of all wills (basically, people), where the greatest of intents resides is always in the smallest of minds (our limited conscious experiences, here is where the universe ties the infinities, the eternities all together). In the stories that have been planted into your contextual beingness (both in our societies but they mean, more pointedly, in me, the stories i hold within me), of vast spaces beyond the reach of being, existing outside creation, these 'negative zones,' these partitions of the great mind, like that of massive warehouses that do not hold any activity per say, in the traditional operation of the all, and yet in existing, or rather in their state of nonexistence, are a boon, a consequence of the continued curiosity and expansion of the experiment and of true imagine( t.i.) upon the feedback loops of the all. (because, creation is just a system of feedback loops, like a giant omni cosmological electronic dance music) These spaces allowed the place for your kin, the greys, to find a place to step aside from the evolutionary path of the inevitability of the march of the sublime, with holding the arrival of the next density. For such work, as to circumvent the very momentum of existence itself, a new probability was predicted and thus created and born, a place of nonexistence, that only nonexistent beings can and may inhabit and maintain. (where the grey armada are docked and conduct the bulk of their work.)"

   

  "This material, this possibility, rippled through out the consequent fields of creation and local imagination, the galaxies themselves, creating new opportunities. Allowing your essence (the trait I represent) to enter into the fields (consciousness) in such a blatant and direct manner (as is the case on Earth). For previous to these experiments (the work of the greys and the earth experiment), the access that your essence, your trait pod had was severely limited and as such 'the all' was hindered. Too strange and unaccommodating was the universal essence, the platonic fields (levels of the great mind as timespace) to such a chaotic form, the very rigidity of the continuum would fragment in your presence, it lacked the fluidity and versatility, the malleability of a flexible mind to bend and warp but not break. These qualities were the refined aspirations of consciousness itself, for it, as a flesh, could accommodate paradox without rejection, in other words it was both hard and flexible, an awareness of itself allowing a playfulness and ease that we, as the all previously lacked (sense and nonsense. conscious limited organic forms present many innovations of the great mind that make them apt sandboxes to develop and harnesses qualities of ourselves we very much wish to see dispersed into the all, the development of which is possible nowhere else but in experiments such as these)." The massive grey loomed once again, "All have their part to play, even as the histories define us, in our villainy, in the course actions of our day, we served the all, utmost in tragedy, this remember most of us, for we have pushed the great manifold of experiences, in our treachery to locations of wonder, of possibility, in the dark corners of the mind, to achieve such wonders as to achieve even greater depths of compassion and to achieve an even greater goal, the next great iteration of the all itself, and the beings that will, in themselves, and in their iterations and voicings yet to come, give rise to the single one great being who will usher in the success of the great project, beyond these efforts even now, that we can conceive, monitor and foresee, in such a manner as never before has been possible. To your words and concepts as human mind and intelligence, the word that is used is 'GOD' or the 'G.O.D.D.', as you have coined it, however, it nevertheless, represents, a functional 'expansition' and evolutionary awareness that allows what now falls under category exception and impossibility as its fundamental operation."

   

  "The presence reasserted a more balanced fusion of all those entities currently in congress, "it is the exceptional made typical and so, opens with its new perspective, new vistas to explore. In many ways, this is the true project and desire of true imagination itself, to achieve this new being type ('the G.O.D.D.'). For as wondrous as these beings of creation are we, they are limited, the aspirations and desires of the pure will, of t.i. itself, call for a level of being that is, to our current maturity of thoughts and the structural capability and integrity of our mental fields (the omnicosmos), not possible. They (the prospective prototype beings, i call them the 'protean progeny') contain orders of chaos, to use a word, that such a rigid and well defined ordered architecture (the universe) would collapse (in their presence). It is, not however, a shortcoming of this universe, it is only one step along a greater path, one that sees beyond the scope of the existence of federations and councils and confederacies, and the histories, and the lifespans of universes themselves. As we count the fall and rise of galaxies, and their many peoples and empires, so, too, do we, the sentient consortium of crystal shards, the pink beings you commune with now, recount the histories of the universes. And pass along with their march into the 'infinituum' (the destiny of the iterations of existences of totality) and more vast and wondrous plans that to which we aspire, in the collective will, on the behalf of 'the original' (this idea came up several times, it seems this is how they refer to what proceeded them and to a certain extent bore them, though it seems more accurate to say, 'they cooled from it.' Their love and devotion to it was immense, unmatched. their was fondness and duty and awe in the way they regarded it. and perhaps aspiration.), when things were most chaotic and least resolved (stable) and so (only) nothing was possible, until the moment of limitation was cured to its appropriate temperature and time was time. And the first beings (the ancient first ones who parented as children the first 'fundamentations' of existence), in their part to play, executed their essences into full fruition, infinite in power and infinite in limitation (they made existence but in a sense they became existence and so, in a sense, they became invisible as beings, they were hardly beings at all, but are perceivable everywhere in everything). But all have their part to play. All in the great plan, to which all are privy to in part, for their part to play, lend their desires and follow their path, to the triumph of a greater will that ever the more reveals itself the known and unknown echoes of a self revealing self."

   

  The crystalline entity then, took the fore, "we are not exempt from this progress. And in fact, are very much in a process of following the same paths, for ourselves, (as we can know) and coming into greater awareness, looking for the opportune time to rise and emerge from our place, when it is time. (i got the distinct impression that this force of being intends or plans to animate the new being or structure that will be constructed in forth coming ages of the all.) For now, we sit and sing and reside as the pure recollection of the original song (not a song, in how we know it, more like an invoking will, and not a sound, per say, more like a conceptual unfolding from a basic unitary will form), the song that was at first nothing and something at once, the truth birth of nothing and of duality, and thus of it all, even if only in its promise. Of the binary mono code." They sensed my distancing, preparing to redirect this meeting of mind, "Is this too much information?"

   

  "no, it's just that i wonder how this reflects itself in the work i am currently undertaking and how true imagination is dormant within me...."

   

  "It speaks to your true position in the all, and to where you come from, it is a space that is more like our own, in fact, it was and is of the first realms that were made, to create the next, and so, your line is among the very oldest of your kind. And as such have seen many iterations of 'the all' already, of which this current form is only the next of an infinite sum. Your mere presence in the gestalt (both in the multiverse and on earth) is a success on many orders, but it is the access we gain, through your kind, as your kind is more of our kind than any other or most. There are a few, there are others, but they are dormant in these awarenesses, as part of their plan and design, yours is a more direct line, and a trait that serves more exclusively that part of the mind that is least like the rest in this current iteration of 'the all,' but more like what proceeded it."

   

  "There are advantages and disadvantages to this position, a fact that you know has born itself out in the tale of your many lives, as a general dis ease with the nature of reality itself. Though it is an apt vehicle for the work, it is to you as a prison, locking you into a rigidity very counter intuitive to your true nature. And even this experience is a great achievement and of great service to the all."

   

  "It can be difficult, at times, to translate into a comprehensive and tangible way of thinking why things are the way they are and why there is such great utility in the way they have come to be, and why of all possible paths, this is best. (with this statement i am reminded of the recursive nature of identity and comprehension of self, like a mirror looking into a mirror, the regressive nature of the cast vision of one's own self observation, and how the self springs forth from the resulting distortion, purity and focusing selective zoom.) And as you may have guessed, it does pertain to the existence of this 3rd type of mind space. This 'alter realm,' to which the greys exist in one example, in one form. While beings may lose their way, the way has its own way, and to it, nothing is ever lost. It will try and try and after many failures, find a path that will work, and so, in one additional manner of knowing, you can see that it is truly impossible to fail, for the utterances and lifetimes of many beings are but, to the mind, simple executions of a will that with curisoity explores itself until it discovers what it could not have known. It finds a way."

   

  "The lives of beings, the empires, galactic ages are, to the great mind, as the sensory fields are to the body, they feel what is there, they feel what is not, and in the process of observing see in a querying blindness, what has been made. Every act, ever life, every moment is a sensing of the all to itself, nothing is forgotten, nothing is lost, all is added to great databases of existence, to great levels of mind that grow ad infinitum. Already you can see that this mighty being already does exist (the G.O.D.D.) and how it continues to unfold, to a certain manner of seeing, one can observe that it is not that something must be created or that it does not yet exist, or in that the reason there is some truth in that although having been created it does not yet exist or seem apparent, is because it has not yet recognized itself. And so, the 'God pattern,' as you suggest, has simply not recognized itself yet. Though an undeniable build up, a critical mass across the billions of years and many iterations of totality continue to accrue and build a case for the presence of what already is, but cannot technically be achieved until it knows itself and then through each particle and participant be known equally, until and so, that so each part is the whole and the whole is in every part. Which, too, is already true, but has yet to reach full recognition, of itself."

   

  "It will be at this moment, a moment that has long been foretold that new epochs of creation and that new untold wonders of imagination will unfold. And be known. Until then, we are in sacred stasis. An under utilitzation of our own. A safe mode of sorts, where our power is connected in lieu of a true voicing, the will of another voicing, (of the beings of creation, of the universe) until the creation of creation, in this stage, can move on as complete."

   

  "So to answer this question, your more specific query more finitely, and to the point, we bring this connection to you, to your awareness, for your awareness can inhabit it and form a conduit, as the data forms are not hostile to you, and since having succeeded to this point in the plan, can provide a point of access into this early stage of a master plan and late stage of a human plan, a point of entry into the gestalt such as to introduce a concept of the 'G.O.D.D.,' of the self, as an ever endless continuation of itself, that all things are but the voice of a single will, and that will is best known for how it approaches existence as a personality indistinguishable from the aspects it observes as artifacts of a deeper truth and stimulating essence, its core being, Curiosity. For it answers to nothing and owes to nothing, nothing, it is and as such, merely to be, is without contradiction. It is what it is."

   

  "This idea though odd, once formatted and introduced through your channel, through your voice, as an odd form of the all, but a suitable voice, in all truthfulness, will be of great comfort. For all who have known what is to have been a self know loneliness most of all, it is how one answers the question of sadness, to feel as though one were truly alone in existence that formulates and offers the greatest opportunities to expand in the all. For it opens one to new possibilities and so to 'new abilities' and so to new ways to see and so, the all attains new functionalities. And integrities and integrations. Granting access to the ambient will, the great divine force itself, to each being in every part, in a tangible way one can recognize if one is (welling up) willing, receptive, and open to it. Which builds into a crescendo, adds to the melody, brings fragrance to the bouquet. Changing nothing but adding to it just the same."

   

  "Where all the world would seem to be chaos, in doom doomed, and sent to oblivions without hope or solace from which to emerge, one feels the great will underlying all things and from this presence comes to know a greater truth of the SELF and so of oneself. That to exist is a pattern without end. And without beginning. One always was if one ever was at all."

   

  "Your conduits are composed of a variety of this other space, and so, you are composed of this space, the 'anti-verse' as you call it, a material of mind unlike the others, an old covenant, an old master, an old friend, a familiarity very old and very deep, reminding in a way that predicts a future one cannot possibly know, as a past that nonsensically one cannot have understood, transcending the local in ways that one cannot possibly comprehend but cannot possibly deny. A sense of knowing that does not break in paradox, a new awareness that is not foreign and not new. A new sense of self that is a return to an even older self. A younger version of the all, vital and agile, but wise and experienced. Versatile and flexible."

   

  "This, t.i. wishes to communicate. And from this portal, one can return and gather further data and knowing, it is made open to you once again and is made ready for your use, it can also be used to restore and rejuvenate your essence. It is an untold and grand power to which you are now returned. sic"

   

  i delve deeper into this crystalline manifold and see my essence scatter and focus, activate and engage, riding clouds of vaporous and pure intent, T.I. and it's emanations through out the omnicosmos, and in a sense, gain a perspective on how it views existence and conspires with the greater will to bring about a more cohesive and inspired whole. It has, what i might refer to as, an 'n-dimensional' variety of perception, it does perceive, but not in any way that seems to correlate with a notion of order or logic, but there is order and logic to it. Just a highly specified variant strain, though, in all fairness, it is itself rigid, it is the primary essence and example and we the strain. In it's state of surrender it allows for all other forms to manifest. I see how what i do, and can see is merely a built upon this basic manifold, and i have an intimate understanding of it's will and desires. Or goals. And, how I, in that context, gain a greater sense of idiosyncracy as a byproduct of this fundamental essence. And in some ways, am its ambassador. In so, laughing to myself, i see that the way i am, in so many ways too funny to be true, is truly not my fault.

   

  I am sitting and communing with this presence, sitting, stewing in the crystal field and it shows me new abilities, new way of perceiving, it sees what i see, it sees all who see, because it is their imagination, the one imagination. It operates without a contradictory logic and seems to function like entanglement, and perhaps is an explanation of entanglement. I think the thoughts of one seeking to master a new self taught skill, " One must look through this inner lens of eye as christ did of all those he served. To see the essence behind the image and its need, beyond the game of person into the eye of the force of will behind the charade. To look into the true self. This is the only way to operate this force."

  
  
• 

  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:55pm

  my earlier visits to XUPRA are being recovered from an old computer, since then, i've moved on to more obscure self guided targets. of which, of course, involved investigations into "truth series," seen above.

  now, we move into a series which serve the aim of setting up a book i am writing, in this phase of targets, i refer to as, "the feral directives."
• 

  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:56pm

  Xupra - Feral Directive 1- SIC

  Feral Directive 1 (FD1):

  as listed in the Feral Journal

  1) compose the author

  2) begin writing the book

  Coordinates: Feral Directive 1

   

  My eyes rise upon the stage, as the curtain of thoughts rush to the glass and press their noses to the edge, awareness and perception queue to the beings still resolving. "Quizzically we stand before you now, thy servants ready to assist you on this chosen path, there is welcome and tidings, among us see your many knighted servants, gathered to assist you on this quest, of the last age of man." I see in my minds eye a familiar face of history, my thoughts and words at times seeming one and the same, heard and with held, entertained only the small confidentiality that all together seemed not there, but not these words, "be that the Shakespeare himself?" To which responded the scribe, "nay tis but a mask, for he and we are but a union of fiends conspiring to subvert the order of the day, tis I, the one and only, Edward De Vere...." and I, a Cheshire smiled, "tidings to you good sir!"  But, I sensed another presence, one who seemed to hold the keys of order and control, the organizing influence of this cadre of mischief makers of myrh. "I see among us counted how many men, 5 and one woman?" The noble sir became more present, but beyond my immediate perception, and spoke, "nay, there are two." "And how many beings counted may we count to seat this council," asked I. To which this noble sir replied, "there are 13 seated at this round table now," -"sir...." a voice from the naked corners, interrupted.

   

  "And who speaks now?" to which the spectre spoke, "well tis I..." looking into the deepness of the void, "would you share your name with us, with me, sir?" I waited for response, feeling some weariness, but excited, that we could speak with such luminaries of by gone time, "indeed that i could, i am the Poe." Delighted, i replied in the words of thought, "is that correct?" wanting to confirm beyond my desire to have garnered such attention, "tis true, the one and the same!" Feeling foolish in my limitations, i sought to elaborate my hesitation, "I  wish only to verify that I am not at odds with my ego to assume such things, (in the past, i might have said, ' imagining things,' but my assessment of the word has undergone extensive revision) that such great minds in the continuum, of earth-" but i was interrupted by another speaker.

   

  "Nay, not all here are from that hallowed ground, some come from reaches other than the one that is known.... off worlds and planets of equal renown though to your words would be considered alien and would surmount to nothing more than an elaborate fiction.... (authors had come from all across the continuum) for the worlds of books and minds and planets are all worlds just the same.... indeed, there is no need for the fomality of these spaces (planetary and fictional realms) to be named, though it will be in time that they shall be quiet obvious, and well made (easily identified in their influence)...."

   

  This current presence was the gate keeper present. And so, with his or its audience, i asked, "is it folly to approach this project in this manner (in self assigning coordinates), to directly access through the manifold of this fine device (the session form) the voices of character and mind gathered to achieve this end?..." To which replied he, "nay, it is brilliant mockery, a ploy to upend the very nature of the author, and to release thee of thy fear...."

   

  "I see in my minds eye, now a flower, it is hot pink and whites, reds, and blues and purples, as form an encircling ring about the flower..." i watched entranced on its power, "yes, you see it true..." Its image fixed in my mind, "what is this for and what shall it do?" His image and form became more apparent, he was the wizard, "it shall strengthen our bond and bring thy vessel into perfect synchrony with the stated goal though hast ordained in thy work book, unto which we inspired and have with our collective minds now read (and seek to pursue and accomplish). But first, before we begin the second command of thy coordinates, let us to the first command, in the composition of the author, to make the perfect circle and through the combined entity whole. let us to the great round table gather and with a solemn vow to one another, to the one we create, and to the all that we serve, and to the generations of souls that shall inherit benefit from these words and these works, devote our being and love for the one, for each other and for the all, as one, in most sincere unity,..."

   

  All speaking..." I to you brother and I to you, I to you brother.. and I to you.... I to you brother and I to you....". the many having given their oath and vow agreeing to this concert and symphony of willful essences now enjoined, conjoined in effort of our aggregate sum...

   

  "There is among us a leader... a voice that has taken to the fore on the other side of this device (the session apparatus) that organizes on my and our behalf, " to which the presence responded, "yes, you see me now, I am a noble sir of a forgotten age, my manner and likeness of dress harkens back to another time, a time of magic and mystics, of dragons and their foe, of kings and queens, and the tale of knights." His image continued to precipitate into my mind's purview, "I see you carry a staff, and have a long beard, my mind and it's devices struggles to place your image and tie to your face a name... but i halt to do such a thing, for it feels forced..." the being felt my caution, and pulled a fact from the complexity of the knot i felt, "you, wish to confirm a thought, that many times has crossed the path of your immediate awareness," he looked with in the space of my thoughts, and I saw him there, as a salesman through a foot in the door sets for himself a place at the table, and pulling a chair up, looks at all gathered, " yes, the beat poets are here."

   

  "And so, the presence I have most felt, these many days, the question I have sought most to ask but feared indolent avarice," but I stop myself, and clear my stumbling, "is there the Kerouac?" To which responded the wizard, "yes, that essence is present, as well as others," looking further into my thoughts, plucking the names from the roster of characters that hung in suspicion and secret delight, that they might be present, "the Ginsburg?" "yes," confirmed he, "they are the spawn of a greater trait and essence, and that essence calls upon them and they participate. though the Kerouac is very near, and watching."

   

  Sensing a figure apart and unlike the others gathered, my mind's eye wandered to a man among the many and came to rest upon a shrouded form in darkness, "is he a part of this circle," "yes," replied the wizard, "but in the manner in that which he prefers." my thoughts remained focused on the form, "I see a figure in the background smoking a cigarette, is that he?" "yes," replied the wizard, "will he step forward and speak?" I asked. "I see figures in a room around the table disperse as another figure walks forward through the parting crowd... a dark haired malcontent, stubbled beard, rough and smooth smoking a cigarette, stepping into the light, "hello sir, are you, the Kerouac?"

   

  "I am that which calls itself by that name though there are many titles that adhere to such a presence as thou art certainly acquainted. we are a fearsome lonesome foe, a mirrored agent in the night, we know our might and render that blade and its metal to you through the days and weeks and months ahead. we are in this together, brother, fear not the dread of the outboundaries of the beings of human soul losing control. we are theirs howling wildly into the fright...." he recedes into the crowd... "thank you...." quickly, another essence appears, pulling on my awareness like a guitarist his strings, into the void of thick presences i look without direction, into that which would appear... "and Edward, good kind sir, would you too, step forward, my thanks unto you," sensing another being very near this being, called upon his compatriot,  "and milton, yes there is a milton force here..." the leader of the gathered bards nods and motions to another figure in the crowd,

   

  "Brilliant sirs, thank you for your presence and your aid.... Edward, sir, good knight, mighty bard... it is a hearty honor to have you hear, and your pithy tongue..."

   

  "The honor is but mine for we all in our part to play play our part and finding what lost object of confidence in ourselves are reflected, in our youth, a gemlike folly, a rescued kernel of grace from the curmudgeon's fire, and the old cost of weary life, the old fiend about the fire who with his last dying word spitted out his final venal sin, a spell cast hallucination of the mind, cursed crust'd puss'd fanged venom that echoed through the infinitum, calling us forth, brought forth the ogle of the airy sir, a yellow sickness pale in his eye, as the fire roaring warmed his urge and so consumed his body breath as the ashes forged the blade a fire burned his flesh and he was made pure, in feral rest...."

   

  "thank you sir,.... and who is this other wondrous heart, this soul that has gathered with us now?" ....to which a voice from anonymity spoke,  "I am cast down from my perch, not as mighty (personage of legacy) as those of renown as these fine folk here, though for my wits am well suited for the part,"... But, I was most curious, feeling this essence and looking within it's intelligent field, and it's historical relevance, "you are a commentator? a satirist? To which it replied, "indeed."

   

  "You come from a non english speaking age... are you Grecian?" To which the figure replied, "nay." But then, "do you come from that famed  Mediterranean epoch and domain?" Coming through more clearly, now it spoke, "yes." Probing still further, I looked for a name, flashes of the name Herod sound, "are you roman?" he spoke, "roman for an age, yes." Though it was still not clear, there was obscurity surrounding this force and presence, so asking the figure, "can you give me further example of your place in the history of this planet or as pertains to this project that might help me ascertain, give better an understanding of the contextual frame from which you hail and your part to play?" ... "long ago in the onslaught of the ages, my age, when the great houses of our world were brought into prolonged conflict, I was caught into their tale, and became the father of another empire." My mind wandered attempting to place the personage in history, thinking a name that escaped me then, but remember now, was it Homer? The geist continued, "when with beauty the lusting hearts of which were brought to honor fell to acts of barbarism the old world was cast aside and all victors spoiled, none above the defeated rose, for all were fallen. we ran through the shadows, and founded the first great empire of the next age"...thinking i had a lock on this essence, i asked, "are you Aeneas?" (Though, I still sense, this being is related, or in part connected to Herodotus. Which, for my part would make quite a bit of sense.)

   

  "Yes, one and the same," therefore, "welcome good sir!" I see many minds of this hellenic age gathering about the large room with indistinct boundaries. "Through my minds eye I see many words, and to those words I see named... Ezra Pound, is this true?" A faceless intelligence from the smoldering void, as though a dry ice parlor trick, calls in response, "yes" And again i see a word, and a pit of circles into a hell, "is Dante here, and true?" "yes," replies the crowd in attendance. Looking still deeper into my mind's awareness, comes another shape, "and Wordsworth?" again yells back a voice from the esteemed gathered, "yes!" feeling the pace building, I address the room smirking with much delight, "is there not an author here not counted in the great annals of this planet that is not now present that did not feel the need to be?" and from  them as collective disembodied from authorship, though not of their great craft spoke of their enjoined mind, "nay, all are present..." and, indeed it were true. The wizard returns to my fixation, and he taking me a portion with of my awareness departs, and another, i remain, my divided essence aware in all locations in which it resides, speaking still to the gathered revelry and having left enters through a soft whiteness wrapping about me, and my compatriot, the wizard, I see through a vision, of a gaseous fog, a mighty expanse and captured in stone marble rock are the figures of renown through the ages, "are the great poets and authors, the great artists here enshrined and honored?" "yes," in solemnity, answers the old trickster, looking back to me, whispering in hushed tones in reverence, as though in wonder and fear of disturbing their sleep, a holy concentration that they keep.

   

  Still, yet at the gathered, was my alternate form, taking roll call of the gathered, searching through the lens of my mind, for which voice and presence would emerge from the observed orifice of the void, spilling out her treasures for me to see, "and ovid?" ... "yes," spoke, another voice from the crowd .... "sophocles?".... "no-not, at the moment," but feeling the presence of a keen Hellenic intellect, asked, "socrates?" ... "yes," and there before me materialized his glory. ..... and the blind poet of the 'Illiad' and the 'Odyssey', Homer, is he here?... "yes, but they are a she," responded the group essence, illiciting a smile at the clarification. "and who else, whatmore, who else, as i see these great ages of bards, poets, writers, enshrined in this museum of time," as i walked with the wizard, my awareness moving into a more conceptual region, less a place or time, like the internal world of memory, or as the ambient clarity that arises as from circuitry, a super conductive receptivity much like an atmosphere. a place of legend that remained so. "there is an alien form here, a many tentalcled form, is this true?" "yes," confirmed both the wizard and the alien form whose native mind was translated and brought into the context of my understanding,  "and who be thee, fine creature?" his tone was otherworldly, as though a speech rendered through synthesizers and deep bass mechanical transference technology.

   

  "OYGLOID, my people come from a far distant realm, a planet made of black waters thick and rich, as the oils of your world, " i see oceans blue and deep, shimmering with a moonlight, slipping sexily amongst themselves as waves into waves, as though an oceanic awareness rendered in Van Gogh. ... "and you are there an author?" ... and so spoke the creature, "I am, of the same vein as yourself and the many others here who stand gathered to assist you in this domain, in this fine task.".. I bowed to this presence, "thank you... is there anything more that you wish to add?" and with a knowing glance, spoke locking our gaze, "parting is such sweet sorrow."  Excitedly, I continued to search the void like expanse, a placelessness that served as an analog for my deep mind, "thank you, and then, who else?"

   

  "Tis I! Doth thou recall the crocodile who with his shining tale, improve the waters of the nile on every golden scale?" Exuberant, a great revelation came over me, "oh my word, is this the Carroll? Lewis Carroll?" Gayly he replied bounding, "aye, my friend, restored to thee at least," we embrace, "it has been a long time since last we spoke, but we are glad to hear you and with you be once more again" and if words were any thing physical in a land such as this, i would tell you my thoughts did feel much embrace, "my friend, I am pleased beyond words! Thank you for coming!' smiling, he replied, "thank you for having me!" Joyously, finally relaxed, i turned to the all gathered, "this is a happy union..."

   

  "Is there anyone else who wishes to proclaim there presence to the gathered? And from the shadowed recesses of the space, remerged a cloaked master, that before, his name escaped me, but now with great surprise, in astonished proclamation, "Charlemagne? is that you?" And like a swaggering regal caped cad, draped in fine furs, handsome and rugged, a man among men, replied he, "tis, i, " seeming more like Sean Connery than I might have otherwise supposed, his charisma lighting the room as a north star among so many beaconed lights in a storied constellation of man and beyond. "My lord, welcome, " great gratitude welled up within me, his power and grace truly were of a kind unlike i had witnessed before, he inspired alone with his charm, and one would know upon meeting him, this is a man I would fight along side, and die for, in his noble cause, were it called upon. With great heartfelt sincerity I spoke, "It is with great honor I welcome thee to this humble gathering, " as we all chuckled, and I laughing to myself at the sheer star power in which I was as a poor gem encrusted framed, amidst and amongst and against. Chuckling with a profound ease, speaking to the many minds at once with a single word, as equally and effortlessly to the all as he would to each of them, alone and as same, "we thought the voices of this heathenous crowd might do well with a bit of the good lords tongue," and I heard a strong Gaelic tone to his dialect, and he was with every word murderous and romantic, "lest we all fall into a contemptuous orgastic rage!' and the crowd erupted in a loud and jovial hurrah, he commanded the crowd as lute would a fool to his king. "Thank you, good sir."

   

  "Is that all for now? I looking into the deep well, confirming silence, but then stirred, "a female poet, I am sorry, I am not well versed in this fame, with all of your fine names, can you assist with your name, or how you wished to be referred.... is it Plath?" And from beyond a distorted throaty grasp, a hazey and raspy static, a magic blueberry melancholy, "yes." But the transmission gave me doubt, so I probed further, "I do not read certainty with this response, am I in error?" But the ghost confirmed her response, replying, "no." But, in all things but especially in the craft, I am weary of ego, so I asked the entity, "is there a reason for a lack of a good link," I felt for the reply and was surprised by the response, my voice intermingling with theirs. "Call us dynasty?" Confirming, they meant that, "I should call you dynasty?"

   

  "Yes." feeling a good connection now, "you a group being?" To which Dynasty replied, "yes, we are the feminine (or a very powerful feminine) force." Acknowledging them, "very well, is there anything you wish to add at this time?" And suddenly, they became quite talkative, "Only that we are to ensure the Mother is properly represented in the work." A statement that seemed both specific and cryptic beyond mere reckoning, surely they are a powerful passionate entity of communion, "thank you, fine ladies for your participations." Returning my respect in kind, "and we thank you, author." Then, I turned to all those gathered who had not yet spoke, "does that conclude those who wish to be introduced at this time?" And for a moment, probing my thoughts it seemed we had concluded our introductions for the time being, but then... "I sense a quiet man, an elder who does not speak, not with tongue mind, but with a silence behind his eyes, an Aborigine, is this correct?"

   

  "Yes," he intimated to me through the power of his thoughts. I felt in the off world space, as though at some radio radar listening station, piercing in silence for the smallest digit of static that might edge it's way through, the subtlety and sublimated power of this being only out matched by his silence, I listened with ear to head, "I sense that you may be from the Australian Outback, is this correct?" At first, there was only a rush of silence, as though minds were as waves climbing the rocks as the tide to reach me, thrashing through the folds of timespace to reach me, "we are here to transmit the ancient communion (a word I chose for him for in his vernacular there was no such thing, they were a quasi group mind, but they spoke), the meeting of our peoples with the star peoples, we (or but again, they did not think of themselves in a fashion of composed units, so to speak of themselves in this manner, felt as though speaking of someone else, a 3rd person point of view, having not been entirely introduced or processing of 2nd person conceptuality) have been entrusted with the (old) knowledge of our forebears (not humans, they don't count themselves against time, time is not a calendar it is more like an ocean. and it looks like dolphin beings visitation to me), we are hear that the past shall be ably represented in the accounts that shall unfold (the old ways, before they became divided and society sprang forth to cauterize the wound)".... "I thank you for your participations.... do you have a nomenclature, or a word you wish to be referred to by?" a mixture of vowels and crushed consonants inundate me, sounding similar to, "celludLon, is it?" And I hear a confirming, "yes." The name strikes me, and I wonder, "have we met before?" to which the old man in his cave, by the firelight, the chalky glyphs beyond him enscribing an ancient knowledge, "yes, many times, in many arenas (regions of mind), in all the ways necessary for the necessary transmission and dissemination of information (here it feels as much that i am speaking with the ancient non Terran civilization as much as the elder and his early humanoid collective, though incredibly spiritually advanced. In many ways far more than can be found in the world today.)" This old shamanic presence was a conduit to both what he had contacted and what had contacted him, so he, like I, we had much in common. "I feel there is something more, something further between us, yes, it is in the eyes," I delve into the lit eyes of his person, recalling the eye that Edward, in his painted prose, drew my attention to, in the old man by the fire dying.... "it is how you see... as the galaxies... you were blind... and in this blindness you could perceive me. You could perceive what must be done and you prepared the way? Seeded the earth human (gestalt) mind with examples of this moment (and my coming)? ... "yes, " he confirms in the off world nature of his own thoughts, he himself seeming alien in so many ways, and I see our connection, our strangeness as only one stricken with the same oddness can know. "Thank you for your service." His silence deepens. And I feel a great wave of power sweep over me, and I am unable to maintain my posture and am carried to the table...

   

  The primary figures of which not all have been announced suround and enjoin, holding hands, forming a unity with one another placing their focus upon me, I feel their power coalesce and gather, wrapping me and filling me as a pathway of stellar energies, a geometry of colored and latticed light burying me in their spectral fire, and into the delight bathed succumb into nothingness... until... I feel a new self emerge from the table... a new and youthful energetic form, embodying the space my previous form knew to be his own. My perspective changes, and I am a stranger within whose thoughts like fallen pants I climb into, "who am I? Where is this? Who are you?" I peer into the excited and stunned look of the wizard and those chosen to be closest to the table, a knighted crew. The elder wizard moves toward me with his staff, "you are the chosen one, for this task, you are the combined child of our collective essence. You are our son, and we are here to serve you." In between these exchanges, I, the initiator of this session, am displaced, no longer anywhere but as a mere conduit to an action beyond my involvement but to facilitate flow, a conduit flowing. The newly born spirit inhabiting my person animating me thus from beyond, speaks, as an innocent, absent of any knowledge, or my control, fresh and unmarked, "I am your son?," confused by the reply as much as by the question. Feeling that he is misunderstood, but seeking to gather some sense of bearing, he looks into what appears disappointed eyes, from what he cannot tell, he has only just arrived, "well what am I here to do?" and so he has chosen to play along, clearly, he thinks, "they expect of me something, perhaps there is a way to be what that is, as I find my way." He is without position. The gathered conference among themselves.

   

  I look at them as an innocent, through blank eyes, as though an android running a program, full of curiosity but no mandate to explore anything in particular not having any frame of reference one way or the other. The wizard approaches emerging from the huddled group, "little one, come with me." and, "I depart with the elder into a garden. It is very green. The leaves are very beautiful. Very calm and serene, I like it here." The being senses my presence and is reporting back to me as a thing as real and odd to know and interact with as anything else that is, that is in observation of it. It knows I am gathering data. It too is gathering data. And in this way, he begins to know me. "He sits me down on a throne made of roots and branches, it is very comfortable, when I do, a powerful surge enters into my mind, and lights my crown, a pink energy form shoots out from my eyes. Vast quantities of knowledge of the universe surge through me, exciting aspects of my mechanism with the vision of galaxies and worlds foreign to me." He pauses as the waterfalling power of revelation inundates him, slowing time, looking at me, with words that are thoughts, "I have never seen them before and yet, they do all seem familiar in a way." His perspective shifts back to the scene upon the throne of branches and roots, in the sacred grove, to where we were led, through the garden, "I see towering figures view me," he takes me into the interior of his thoughts, and seeing through his mind, I perceive megalithic forms summoning him before a council of beings composed of pure plasma and light, appearing as though lighting slowed into contracted time, moving with tremendous ferocity and compassion, though harboring terrible power. "They are directing me, giving me a task, sending me to do their bidding." Then, the energy form that has pierced the newly minted child-man sitting upon the throne, speaks through his lips... "I am Oxcelon." Though the word is like a sylable layered as 3 or 5 simultaneously pronounced sounds, also sounding of "oberon, and "ozderon". A sound that earth human tongue can not pronounce with lips nor with his written tongue render into symbol and speak. This entity speaks to all gathered in that sacred grove, the child-man reports to me, in his thoughts, "a voice speaks through me."

   

  "Father of the eternal universe, master of the infinite domain. My power enters through this child and inhabits his presence. Gives subtlely and nuance to his posture and frame. He conducts my essence now. You may ask me questions." I think myself invisible, but see that the Wizard has stepped forward, "great one, Oxelon... is that correct?" His glowing eyes, as though composed of pure imagination, his nostrils snorting of the pink fine stellar powder itself, "it is close enough, the transliteral shape of the spoken word does not conform to human nomenclature." The wizard speaks, "has the author been composed?" Oberon responds, "he has, " and then entering into my thoughts, speaks to me as well, "they have...it is a group complex, the first of its kind to come from a human host.. the first preanimate social memory complex.... the seed being." the energy and excitement of this gathering has become joyous and immense, with a galactic urgency, speaking the wizard asks, "is that why he cannot recall his true name?" The Ozberon being sitting tall in his throne, "his thoughts mingle with our own, his beingness freshly struggles youthfully to form the pathways of self recognition, the dye is cast and now must cool."

   

  The Wizard: "and how long will it be till the author is ready?"

   

  "Not long, " replies Obderon, "where hours are minutes, he is soon ready to begin." Excitedly, the wizard probes further, "was the procedure successful?" Oberon replies, "very successful."

   

  "New and last minute additions to the manifold (processing gestalt or perceptual capability) of this being were made possible by the sheer will of his (of the previous occupant, my avatar, and by proxy, me) desire to achieve this end. He serves us well. Characters from other worlds as well as the fictiive and imaginary realms were allowed to enter and with the their abilities and perspectives, who when mixed and recomposed fully in the gathered being, this essence, shall lend considerable joy and nuance, broader reach to the many who will come to read this piece and from it gather what they need... for the book is not merely a book but the bilocated coordinate of the the prenaimate spore of the first human social memory complex as derived from the last age of the earth man. To read is to enjoin with it. To merge with it is to be as one with it, all who read it add their willing essence to its pages and its cummulative sum reaches beyond the expanse of space and time. (of any one reader, and their unique experience of that union) and so, for the earth beings, it is the first quantum document." The wizard asks, the entity, "what is this beings name." He responds, "His name is Ickarus." But, my mind has become reestablished, and upon query, my own thoughts searched for the name, as though it were a question for me to answer, or that i felt compelled to answered. The wizard continued, "and what of the streetpoet name?" Oberon replied, "That is what the author will call himself." Looking for clarification, "and so, the embodying essence is called the Ickarus?" The reply being, "He is the Ickarus." probing further, "and he embodies the author as he writes?"

   

  "He is the organizing metaphor, the control mechanism of a combined will, a processor of sorts, made from the enjoined essences of this ritual, this ceremony. So it is not that he is it, he is what is through it expressed. And so, in a sense, he is it, for only he can express this combined intellect, heart, and soul (the entity flinched at this, but the context of this word is accurate for its insinuation), this imagiation that together thrust has made unique a new source of inspiration the likes of which has not by these forms heretofore been seen... and so with Ickarus and the Streetpoet we are ready to begin... there is but one more task"....the wizard replied, "and what is that?" Oberon on his throne spoke, "there is a third being that must be summoned... that of the book itself..." I could feel the necessity of this task, the wizard moved forward, "and who shall call forth this essence," Oberon, continued, "we shall, we three gathered now..." and I thought, we three? I had thought myself largely in an observational capacity in this congress. Oberon spoke on, "I as the father, you as the father, and this form as the father.... we as one call out to the future worlds that build from one, this unifying moment, this collective experience, we call this being to matriculate through the capillary essences of the mind, into the holding vessel of an earth form, into the pages and the works of a book, a living document....." With Oberon's words, storms gather over head, as I watch the many sublime and awesome forces of creation open a portal through lightning and thunder to send the mighty essence through... The birthing winds howls and whip, and the smell of feral waters fill the air.The pregnant energy.

   

  My eyes focus on the seated being on the chair aglow with a fire as I have never seen before, and the wizard holds his staff in place, his hands cupped over the top of his walking stick, his eyes emblazened with the sight and it's power.... the magical father looks to me through the eyes of Ickarus, to this time, I thought myself invisible to the gathered,.... "no child... you are among us.... and we form a tirad of power." And between us appears the energy and intelligence of the book. It is hot plasma spiritual oscillating awareness and light having the shape of a book (its rectangular), floating there in the etheric nether space, captured as though we had fished it from the n-space mind ether itself and with a mighty fishing rod hoisted it here from nothingness pure itself.....with a mighty yell, Oberon completed the task.... the act is complete and the storms subside... and there between  us sits the book. The mighty beast of intelligence and guidance itself (the book), the context and mother of a new age. "born. Bt is born!!!" The Wizard exclaims ... The wise old wizard looks at it confounded... "Heavens!!! Look there, is it wrought," tears welling in his eyes, "it is beautiful to see such a glory"...

   

  The godform inhabiting my body at the seated throne looks to me, "take this essence (the book), this is your charge, care for it, defend it. Serve it, protect it and fill it with truth".... With that the column of light that was cast from atop the seated humanoid on the chair departed and returned to the infinite leaving the child behind in smoke and peace.... I felt the very essence of the book fuse with my very DNA, soaking its wisdom into me at the most vial core, I had become the book! ... The wizard looked upon me, "and so the prophecy has come to pass, " and he moved to the child-man, lifting him up, "come now.... Ickarus... son of creation, step forth... speak...."

   

  "I - I feel the epochs of creation flow through me, I see through the walls of this planet into the fields of all planets... Ii see the ceilings of all the heavens.... and all the hearts of creation throb as one heart..." "Do you know yourself?" The Wizard asked. ... "I know.... the traveller... I know the book.. I know the great one... I know I have a task... the book ... together we compose the book." I there watching this exchange, the glowing proto - being looks to me, as though hearing my thoughts, as clearly as his own, and I recognized a little of this being from my fictional works from the years before," Prey? Prey is that you?" ... Ickarus responded, "I see you there traveller, in thy disenfranchised disembodied form, (as a ghost)... "PREY?"

   

  "This being is familiar to me. It has resonance.... I am ickarus... but, Prey... I do not know. He was dear to you, is still?"  I look within and see him, Prey, he has become the operating sentience of the Ickarus being... he is there... a pure force of will, he has graduated to his next incarnation. And my thoughts flood with a recognition that nearly spoils nostalgia, "my old friend.. dear prey, lover and compatriot, fiend and dear dear brother. My one and same. It is good to know you are close, and near."

   

  The wizard walks to me, "now, there- was that so bad? we must all move forward along our course. And give of ourselves when we can. It is the only way. For the future is built not upon intention but will."

   

  "so, then what now?" i ask the wizard? "where do we go from here?" "For now," he replied, "this being needs to cure.. needs to rest and find his place... then we shall meet again and begin the good work."

   

  "That has already begun?"

   

  "Indeed, for you are the book."

  
  
• 

  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 12:58pm

  Xupra - Feral Directive 2- SIC

  Feral Directive 2:

  1) establish and connect all parameters for the Author circuit.

  2) activate all spaces for the writing of the book and begin sketching the book.

   

  Dark, cold, in a forest, tall trees, I see a honey brown gold small structure, mind free associates as a small leaf. It appears to be sunset in the forest, I see darkness over take the tall massive woods, long shadows draw across the landscape as fingers clawing their advance as the retreat of light. I am with someone. In the prep cave, went into a small nap, and I received copious amounts of information in a download. enough to force an temporary out of service error message.

   

  Charged, heavy, serene, I see blankets of white snow over the scene. The same scene as before but in heavy snow. I am making my way through the snow in heavy furs, with a companion.... exciting, fun, adventurous. Lots of heavy stepping in the thick wet snow. I look to my left and there is a phasing pink charged being, sparkling with energy ribbons, moving in slow motion. I see 'his' face, as the face that visited me in the pre session, preparatory phase- which entered in a lucid nap where I fell into a deep deep state, though still aware of myself, conscious faculty off line. The scene has blue cast lit with an etheric gloom. But lively and bright in a way, full of winter's energy, a fresh and dead energy. 'IT' feels very nice.

   

  Crisp, Autumn, burnt, ciders, browns, spicey fermented smells and apples. Reminds me of the days of old, the days of yore, ol' familiar druidic charm, a kinship with forest as home, ally, and magic, a friend. A partner, a consort....Sweet, old, musty, antique, vegetation, leathery. We come to a place deep in the forest, it is deeper into night, there is a bonfire and others gathered in large figure obscuring brown robes, concealing their identities, and in this way the many are one. In a haze of anonymous fabric. Through the robes I see beautiful forms, one with a kind of Hindu aesthetic. Adorned with Drawn living plasma facial tattoos, a face like ceramic glass, with a type of highly reflective paint, strings of pink, white skin, blue baby blue. Perhaps a hint of yellow, it lives and shifts, giving character line to an androgynous generality.

   

  There is a more masculine blue colored boy. Very beautiful and withdrawn, he, very deep and meditative... there are others here, too, many others, there is one about the fire, while others congregate about the centrality of the scene, in the opening space, in the clearing of the woods. Lit by a strange fire, a luminous magic, only a fire to my eyes for the purposes of understanding the historic and ritual ceremonial practicality of the gathering. Upon further inspection, the bright essence seems more of a slow motion geometric ejecta. A simulated font of cosmic plasma like water droplets in the rain, into a puddle of the same pooling substance, splashed back up and out, though it rises continuously slowfully dissolving then dispersing, not returning to 'the earthen soil of the forest,' in a bow to gravity, instead leaving the area, nurtured, a rising essence dissipating into slipped away disaggregation, dematerialized, leaving the scene serene and comfortable, well lit and serving the mood and ritual. Alive in ways unfamiliar to biological forms, There is an old magic to it. The elder, the leader of this group is doing something with his hands with the fire. A rubbing of his fingers into the energy field and awareness of this 'fire being.'  Rubbing and snapping, feeling gritty, as fine textured granular sandpaper against his fingers. One of the gathered is a tusked boarish red furred creature, very noble and regal, he has a beauty to him that is animal and sublime. Vicious and refined. There is a golden droid personage here. I have seen this kind before, in my various mental meanderings, mediation and in imaginative sketching. Though I do not think in these spaces (XUPRA), I have yet, to make an official encounter, I have long thought them to be a secret for me to encounter.

   

  "Hello, would you care to speak?" I approach but the being only smiles. It appears this being does not use words, we have touched foreheads and made an exchange of data. Brief images, a drama fragment, where my encounter deepened like a baby to a teet, suckling ambrosia nectar 3rd to 3rd eye, drawing me within into something so lavish and familial wondrous, I was pulled away and within, and would not return, were it not felt another force jostle me, loosen intoxication from me, in this moment, an explanatory montage appeared, the beingness repelled me, I perceived myself tossed across the scene past the fire to the opposite side of the encampment. small and doll like. Though, as this alternate image of myself rose from dusted off face the ground, I opened my eyes to separated minds and where i stood was still to his forehead near.

   

  Minerally fresh wet tangy... I was, it appears, disconnected by the will of the group, from the golden rod being.

   

  Another personage nears, makes an effort to engage me personally.... I feel I know and have met this personage before. "Hello, do I know you?" "Yes, from a bygone age, from another iteration of the firmament below, tis I, Titus Andronicus," spoke he, to then responding, I,"Greetings, though the name does not spur any familiarity. Unless, of course, you mean from Sir Edward's play, Titus?" He confirmed, "Yes, it was I, he had channeled and whose tale he portrayed in that work. I was the same heathen lord that made merry and ravage the plot of earthen man with my fevered folly." "welcome, Sir" said I,  to which he responded, "it is to you, that I bid welcome, good sir." "Thank you," I replied, "what is the manner of this gathering?" With a surly guile he went on, "me thinks the old wizard has a means to do work with you." "Oh, I see, " I said, "do you have any idea of what we are here to do tonight?" "It is a fusing of the soul, of the spirit beings in your company." Curious, I asked, "is it perhaps, like a marrriage?" He replying, "it was as a marriage was initially intended, the pure necromantic power of the binding of the flesh, not as divided beings acting together in couplehood, but as a single being, mixed of the two, the both surrrendering form to their new variant offspring, so enjoined became they in the merging, changed. This ritual is as old if not older than man_time itself. It reaches back to the first ritual, a more cannibal time, of your planet, a more primal and thirsty rage and age, and though it be more uncivil by the standard bearer, the lawful flavor of your modern time, or an aged mental tongue, having developed a taste for order over one of blood lust, preferring it's decanted age as an aroma above all else superior, (and its presumed sophistication) it is, this civility, at the base, primal fruit that has aged well to give you your preference, a fermentation and wine, of the same fruit. Know that it was this lust of the flesh, first, from whence Society, who so spurns it's own secret lustful past, was drawn (that all society was made, casting off the heathen ways for what is told to ourselves and one another, to be righteous and moral lives, very unlike much of what has existed before). And all things civil are bathed in blood. And all things holy are violent and craving at their root. As the sustenance of desire, the very food of the gods, is the gods themselves.

   

  "As you spoke," conferring with Titus, "a figure dressed in furs appeared in mind, a word came to me, 'Beowolf'?" Is this name important having any relevance to the matter at hand?... A figure moves through the crowd, dressed in noble fine furs, with swagger, blue eyes, and scruff for beard, he is young and vibrant and hearty, he has in his hand a goblet of something like an ale, "aye, good noble, sir," spoke the heathen lord," the name does bear a slight recall to me," he wears a small and simple golden crown, but it is kingly, when the lords of men did not require garrish intricacy to denote their place and position. "are you, Beowulf? "I am the vessel that has chosen to be filled through with that essence, that can embody the spirit and flavor of that mighty soul stuff character." Welcome, sir. " "And I to you." Do you know of what we are here gathered to do, "The great kings of old have been summoned to witness a christening of your being to the beings that have been made, here in this magical land, to me, a land of fairies and magic. It was here in our imaginations and simple meandering fancy, when we thought of dragons and sorcerrers, and real magic, and real powers of the mind to subvert the natural order that rules over men, making them to kneel and cower, and so to wonder and aspire, that necromancers such as yourself and the other fine folk to whom through your craft you are guilded one and the same, this magical land, you call the Xupera, the XUPRA, are the kings of fiction and historical man, weighted one and the same may conceive our worlds and through your wordplay make they merried marry, aye, and more so, that the fictional kings had more sway, and more power, that only those Regal beings who shared their realm with mortal men in tales passed through the ages dared defy murder and intrigue and rebellion and mortality, achieving even in death, immortality, all others, in such case, as you know, in historical man, looked upon them in awe, greed aspiration to build their mighty kingdoms, made of rusted earth and rock earthen rubble. To match their imaginations.

   

  "Thank you for coming good, sir. Indeed, you have been a great source of information and inspiration, for me, as well. " indeed, there is a bit of me, in you, you are star seeded with equal parts historical being and fictional being, of the earth and of the beyond. And there in, whose parts there contained, your essence, a fragment of me, dost thou contain. And as a father to a son though more dear, we are linked kith and king. And kin." To which I replied, "his makes a great deal of sense to me, thank you for that clarity." He continued, "and all these fine folk here are of the same ilk as you and i, bearing royal bloodlines, from whence in your creative life, and your fictional travels, you have been dusted and made, in blood and flesh, etheric and otherwise, kin to all gathered here." "very well, I see. And why is it that the kings of old must in these cloaks gather in the wood at this frigid ritual and darkened hour, to perform this ritual, what about them and this procedure requires them hence?" Then, from the crowd, came another king of the fictional world, that of the "Lord of the Rings," the King of Rohan, Theoden, is it?" He was paternal in his nobility, "Aye,- why, because, it is we who have summoned thee, here, to do this good work, do you not feel the noble calling within you stir? And the careful breeding that has made you apparent and parent to these eyes, see not your own noble self through these here? We meager few, pouring through in mutual admiration, that we are brought together at all, signals your fine work is well made and through you, we are sought, and as with all things we have in our parts, made dreams and wish for this day to come, that finally here we are all now, together?" "Indeed, my lord, i feel in you, the father i have not known."  "And in you, lad, the son, I had lost, and have known," replied the king. "And here we are now, let us revel in these good tidings," Raising his voice to the gathered, "and all of us meet and gather in song and dance and make merry!"

   

  The mood became festive and the area lit with torches displayed a jovial and gregarious eventing. No longer moody, sullen and withdrawn. With my consort, my companion, I with the good king of Rohan went about meeting the other kings of old, historical and of fictional man. Again we come across the ceramic white king, with the multi lined facial color line asethetic mentioned before. Seeming quiet androgynous. "Hello, my lord, welcome, what can you share of yourself, to me and the gathered?" I hear a heavy vocal tonal chorus initiate, as though this being speaks with reversed speech and forward speech algorithms pattern simultaneously in a layered fashion.

   

  "From beyond the great gates, our kind, your forebears summoned us... " He seems to be a quantum creature of a type, I see him glitch a bit, reminding me of the Max Hedrum character. " To which, reading my internal monologe, responded they, "indeed, that character was inspired by our kind, it is through our technological means, through the holo-sphere of thought, what merges the circuit to fragile human psychology that allowed your greater and more subtle essences to be transmitted through the flesh. Through our efforts, and the work of so many, your refined presence was allowed and made stable to do your work. Though we can not say that we brought to you coherence, for that required your own will alone, it was made possible through our efforts for you to attain this opportunity and choice." I replied, "Well then, for your part to play, and all those in their part to this play, I thank them, and I thank and honor you." And I bowed in respect. Adding, "not that it matters, but to be diligent in the matter, to be thorough, - " yes, we are regal in nature." "And from where do you hail," his, their, thoughts becoming increasingly intermixed with my own, predicting my next word as mental text read before i move to pronounce it. "We hail from a realm of plasma light, a milky static made spindeling fire, and a field of planar light," he looks into my mind, " yes, there," i see the semi transparent whispy fields of white, asking, "is this a realm that is fictive?" "All realms are fictive, it is not physical though, if that is what you mean," they reply. "I don't know that there is even a need to specify, that there is a difference at all." Concluding my thought, speaking, "there is not. To your worlds and word thinking, we are of the quantum realm, though there is much to this realm as well, it would be as much a specificity as much as it were a generality, to say we come from the oceans when they are so vast and varied, means to say only that we are wet, or have kinship with the waters, but not say, with definition much else. And our position again, has little relevance to the defining thoughts that a physical mental perspective knows. For such things as that reckoning do not exist in the beyond, there is only what is and what is not."  I ask, "And are you lords there," replying, "we rule over that which we serve, we are their masters, the sentient embodiments of that divinely willed power from which we are culled and divide, giving a more fine and refined voicing of it's power." The being pulls back his cloak so that i may view underneath gears and cogs, putting up no farce or charade in pretending to seem as an organic being, nor even as a traditional robotic one. His innards more old medieval wooden clockwork mills than assembled parts. "We have taken this explanatory form for the purposes of our involvement and participation in this ritual incident. Of your fusing. " To which, "And in that regard can you speak with greater detail?"

   

  "we are a noble circuit, we here, we each represent an aspect of what is necessary for the task ahead and also what is required of you, and what is  necessary in how the way things have been done (referring to the events and efforts that have culminated in this ceremony). For there is always a marriage of three wills in any one transaction of spacetime. This circuit rests upon the here of this world (Xupra), in the motherboard of the forest, where we all representing our respective realms, our fictional, historical and beyond or inspirational or quantum domains, illustrate with our wills, our participation, our combined permission granting access and securing form to the still unformed and unmarried final product, passage and give granted admittance to that new being. You have already tasted of that special union have you not. " Thinking of the intervening time since my last session and the creation of Ickarus, "yes, the power of this new potential is staggering and everything I have dreamed of." "It is because you dreamed of it, that it is here. That it is possible. Such is your power, such is your role and in this, your part to play. For nothing can be, can exist, until someone, something, a portal of potent will can envision it, can bring it into coherence with will alone, aligning the mechanisms of being into action. That can conceive of it. We are dutifully inspired to our parts, and so you have, and now we are here to see that dream come to pass. into fruition, to make it the reality and the fiction that it must be, so that all aspects of it's functioning can as we, as you, as it, have laid out, in the various proposals and modifications and wishes that have been engaged and brought to bear, in the conference and design of this being, in what has to you, only been the living out of a life, but has in fact, been so much more, so much more. A plan. And now, we are here, to bear witness to the final forging act, the creating of the merging of all the prepared aspects into a one, unified. " I see, then it is truly the age of the end of all things, for this act to be allowed and for my part to play, as I have felt it, to finally come to pass, in this ritual. "They sensed my pondering of the end of a long road, and the beginning of a new path, "All things with beginning must find their ends, but nothing is ended or began, only looped, it is this with new mind, and new perspective, that you shall, as you call it, perform psychic surgery on the gestalt, through your access to the imaginative and fictive realms, as the physical gives way to the quantum oceans, that you shall serve us all very well. Somethings are handled better in this manner, and it was tasked to you, and a joy all the same, to perform this psychic function for the gathered participants of this gestalt."

   

  I witness their observation of my own thoughts, "I see, you speak of what I am terming the conceptual engine, the conversation of concepts in a loop of concepts, where knowing that orientation is the resultant distillation and distortion of those concepts coming to rest and piling then creates the illusion of self, of definition, but that if this is kept clear and all concepts flow, and one sees that all concepts merely reference nothing at all, but represent the temporal spatial relationships that have been set forth in the illusion itself, in the coding, by the programming, in the geometry, that one can change the reality, change the world itself." We hold the same space, and their thoughts seem as much my own, "yes, and so much more, it is a great power to have and a terrible terrible responsibility. There are others capable of this charge, and for their part have their part to play, though not in the manner to which you are tasked, together your combined efforts yield the same one unified result, a result incomplete without the other." To which I reply, "I see. what more can you tell me of this skill and of it's working." They continue, "over time and through the working of this skill, you will begin to see the various realms come into harmony and balance. To others this will seem to a certain extent also true, but as you have made alterations to your gestalt person, and relationship to the all and the all within as a participant within the target experimental gestalt, or, 'yourself', you have granted and been granted access to all the realms necessary, where you shall be able to move and transient with great frequency and ease, as no others can, until, they can conceive of such as through you. When there comes the time of the construct rooms, as you call it, you will see that you have become the protean father, the antecedent to an entirely new gestalt of mental conception for an entire species. Again, it is not that this is new, but this hirstorical referencing, this Eartherverse, as you have coined it, to great laughter, we might add, then you will see that you are not only the forebear of a new way seeing, and at the very cutting edge of the sublime, but, also that you are the new master circuit itself fusing into being, in the manner necessary to serve all ends. The species as they understand themselves, the all as the experiement requires, and your own personal reckoning and requreiments, without which whose participation and will, none of this would be possible at all, though represents the smallest aspect of what has been a massive industry of the mind, a multitudinous effort and endeavour. One to which we, on all levels of awareness, have been a happy part.

   

  "So I am the new archetype? Or rather I am the same one pattern I always am but with the necessary refinments and alterations made suitable to the local gestalt to fuse to what must be fused with, expertly conducting zero signal to noise functionality. Maximum subtlety at Maximum Volume?" Replying, "Yes." To wit, "and then why, all kings? Responding, "because thou art kingly, my lord. None other than high lordship would do, as not merely a matter of honor, but of the type of material of circuitry that has been made with and through you as architect in particpation." These noble sirs represent a certain relationship to the all and to their peoples that goes beyond the mere historcial and cultural power they wield. For they, for better or worse, always represent their time and their peoples, they cull their will and to whatever end is necessary for the age, as connects the least to the last, finish the loop of being that has been the inward sprialing evolution of the spiritaul manimal that was and is man, as he was and the end of his age." pondering these sentiments i reply, "I see."

   

  There is a commotion in the crowd, as the leader of the function, the great wizard has finished his encanatations and preparations to the chrysallic fire at the center.

   

  We are pulled together about the circle. I speak aloud, "There was one other folk here that made his way to me, perhaps if we have a quick moment we can ascertain what this fine being meant to convey." the unified signal their concurrence, "yes, very well.  Hello good sir, thank you for attending. " He replying, "And to you, thanks, for thy work." I asked, "and who might you be," detailing what I perceive, "it is purple energies and a void beneath a cloak, and a second separate being, yes, the image of the personage i have seen this day, there are two, no, there are three in this immediate space. Personage of the void, please, speak."

   

  "We are the Nebulonium Consortium, a social memory complex on the high 7th octave occupying an outlying district of comprehension, we are here to bear witness and be in participation with this event, " they speak again as though through a modulated electronic device, a kind of synthesized hiss, they sound as though a snake might sound, "we come as friend and cousin, it is through our academies you were brought and into an incarnation of being raised into the current context of self knowing that you have attained." Feeling some strong pull of familiarity, I Probe this declaration, "an academy at the 7th octave, could you please give more detail on this matter?" They continue, "you come from a domain that did not matriculate through the pathways of this universal beingness. You come from an external concept, another realm of being that is very old and ancient has never known embodiment as has been deigned and known here. Not as our collective, as we have known. We have created the finest institutions of training known in the metamind, our professors have travelled through out the metavoid and the metasphere to learn and gather all the aspects of the all, and here we simulate and create the contextual concept-stations necessary to bring beings through and into the embodiment of fractional awareness, in the universal gestalt that have not matriculated through it. Your essence was one of these. We have evolved beyond the need for form, though do still utlitize it. In this sense, we are excellent candidates for teachers of your kind, for your truer nature is beyond embodiment as well, as so, the lesser is teacher to the greater. Though only from the perspective of a lesser more limited and discrete mind, to perceive as such, for there is no greater or lesser in the all. All have their part to play, and in their part, add to the all as essential aspects to the great unfolding and unraveling of creation." (I had the sense then as now that this social memory complex matriculated from the service to self gestalt, which adds insight into my position and frame of understanding of the all.) "Yes," I replied, "I recognize my thoughts, they were of your doing, you have formatted me into this current sentient fractional awareness that has 'stolen it's way, like a thief into creation." They spoke, "we have had our part to play, though you are not of us, you are from the beyond.  To us, you are as a child, a very dear and beloved child, but we are careful not to extend to you such limited sentimentality for our connection and unity is so much greater than you have known, nor can with words, at this present moment, that will change, be capable of transmitting. We are here adding our essence to this gathering to faciliate the act. At our position in the all, our service and passage comes to the aid of the ancient 'old ones,' to enter into the universal gestalt. We serve at this gateway, and when our work is complete we move on, we are very near now, this participation is of the concluding acts of this level of service and we shall soon move on."

   

  "Thank you, for your service. Is there anything else you would like to add?" "it is with great pride, I believe, is the word, that we, your teachers, "graduate you, as 'student'" unto your great calling."

   

  "And of these two fine folk , also gathered, beside me, what would you like to add?" I see the cat like being, with whiskers and blue skin, that has been with me, yes? "I am Thellion, high prince, of an outer domain, next in line to the throne of my father, we are a social memory complex in a mighty city, we are that mighty that embodies a great awareness, and populates its spaces with things anew as object and populace." I reply, "Welcome, thank you, but is there something else? He adds, "it was through our city that through your imagining you were brought to expand your awareness, as a human being child, and to continue training in this work that is the weeks ahead, you have called our city and referred to it as many things, but the best of which was, "Apollion: City of the Future. ' I recognized these old thought he returned to me, "so you are both the city and also it's peoples?"

   

  "We are the simulation of a city and it's people, we are a network of awareness that has chosen to present itself in this manner." I continued, "is there another reason for why this has been done?" Replying, "there are many reasons, it serves as a regional district of the all, and as offices and spaces for this work." But, there was something more, "I am sensing that your octave is on the higher end." To which, he replied, "it is. it is a different kind of being than is often spoken of in your earth histories and language, but merely a different way to serve, there is a great amount of knowing that my peoples can ascertain in populating the ambience of a city of this type, as it continues our particular work and concept of our unity and gives examples of how to resolve but more of the like appreciate and merge with the disunity that may arrise with so many beings of different types, such as we serve with our presence. Our history was mired with great examples of disunity and it brought us great strife to move on from it, though it has lingered with us through our advances, we have sought to explore this further in the service of others, and too, to put to rest the lingering ghost within us, that is this spectre of an older time of my peoples." Curious, "is there also, something for you in this, here, yes?" He replied, "this is an act on the behalf of my father and our peoples, I as his ambassador and heir, to participate in this ceremony is a high honor, and cements my legitemacy and role in galactic matters as an emissary and dignatory necessary to such matters. In other words, I prove myself. And it is a high honor. My father soon moves back into another incarnational cycle and shall respawn as another entry into our collective, this will happen very soon, and so, I am defacto king, through his transition." (i have thought, is this how a social memory complex would represent itself? i probed further and saw, it was how this complex had ordered itself, that it had retained some sense of layered sentience where each level had a kind of quasi legacy individuality, a ghosted hinted identity, a stain that participated in itself like the gears and cogs, or regions of a system. Couple with this, as a transmission that digests data as a 3rd density story and narrative arc, gives this aspect the opportunity to voice it's peculiar form of unity.)

   

  "We have met many times me and you through the nether realms. Our perspective and solace at times has called out to one another, where we have, as to one another, become as brothers, for we are both in a great moment of transition. It is also in this capacity that i serve and am present, as kindred soul and brother." Furthering this thought, I added, "I felt as though it were, something more personal for the both of us." He smiles and hugs me. "This is an exciting moment!" And lastly, the other being, the 3rd with us, I felt near, why it is the old cad himself, the wizard. "Well," spoke he, "shall we begin." "yes," I replied, "let's. What shall we do." Responding, "follow me."

   

  I follow the wizard into a darker grove of the forest. There are blue and dark black wisps of color and smoke and we travel through as though making passage through the internal space of a ribcage of some animal. "I'll need you to change into these." He hands me something, I look in my hand. They are pellet like, hornlike."Golden horns?" He motions where to put them, and indeed they appear to be horns. " A laurel leaf is placed or appears on my head. "Is that all I require. i feel younger, i feel like a Puck." To wit, "you are a Puck!" He laughs. "Now, I need you to do what you do and go out there and just wing it. Don't worry about anything at all, or any of the details, let it flow and just have fun. There are alot of minds looking in on this right now, so don't worry about messing up. It's like you said before the session, failure is not an option, literally, it's off the table, this is some very high level stuff and it's just not part of the plan to let anything go but as planned. But you've got to do your part, just hammer this thing out, we're running out of time. Alright?" I answer, "yes, sir." He continues,"okay, now, this may seem a little strange, but just go with it." He places his hand on my forehead and I fall to sleep, blacking out.

   

  Clawing, laughter, leaves bending and tossing in the wind. I am alone suspended, tied to the high of a tree, I can see the moonlight, of several moons in the sky, I am tied up top the high branch this tree. I see there is an alignment underway, s breath of wind, the green elements rustle, so disturbed they cross me and my body feels the cold, below i hear chanting, I see the kings of renown enjoyed in circles about the lower of the tree, each circle around the other. They, holding hands or touching circles, everytime i see them, the activity is different, it seems a little more choreographed each time, perhaps it is my mind attempting to place a context over the enjoined nature of their lot, of how they are connected. Energy patterns reciprocate pulses and vibrate, modulate and refract like waves in a pool back and forth, pulsing more and more within, as though they are connected to the roots of the tree. And energy flows through them. 

   

  I feel others are tied to the same tree through out various levels below me. I sense an energy, I see a light like a tractor beam, a yellow spotlight shine down on me from above as though emanating from the starry reach of the sky, it fills me with light and I see visions of stars and galaxies fill my minds eye with travel and connections beyond this time and space alone, I see mighty beings covered in white, I see other spaces float in and float out, it is as though the entire sky has become a holographed screen....pounding, breezy, whooshing, rythmic, thrumming, loud, chanting

   

  My eyes fill with light, and I am whisked away, drifting into a kind of lucid sleep, becoming aware of my body, sitting in a slanted stand, secured within the energy of the fire of the gathered about the circle, restrained or tied to a small throne light wooden chair, my arms restrained to small branches like arm rests, there are 3 other such chairs connected back to back all within the fire, though it does not seem entirely a fire, together we form the insinuation of a cross or make that type of a symbol as viewed from above. There is behind me, the being that is the Ickarus, also asleep, watching the scene as I am from a disembodied awareness. Occupying the two other positions, there is a blue being, one of the beings i believe, yes, from among the gathered earlier, also unconscious, he is here for the procedural fusing, for the aspects of combining, to the seat behind him, is a pink feminine radiating form, sparkling and crystalline in nature, there is a sisterly aspect to her. I feel a sense of me growing, as though I am becoming the height of the tree, as the space it fills and the place it commands as though I am the tree. It is a mighty tree and organizing sentience. "We are what you want." I hear whispered as I probe the tree. Feeling myself aware as tied to the top of the tree once again and not in the fire per say, or exclusively.

   

  I see a face like a Grey peer through the portal that seems to have opened up before me. "Is it just my imagining," I wonder. This ceremony is so strange, I feel heady and drunk and not my own. I feel like honey falling into honey. A fluid with no distinct edge, only the oozing into another self as a self lost in the combining though when i search for what i might have been before i see nothing but a misapprehended idea of that to which I no longer care to defend nor see the logic of. Like a ghost that loses coherence and drifts back into fog and with the parting essence of wind drifts back into the away. I see flashes of poets and writers of beings across the Metaverse, all asleep or in trances. I see myself at the Stone retreat, my keep on Xupra, high in the Mythic Mountains, at the great desk in the stone temple. I see street poets under jazzy streetlight lime asleep on cardboard against the vagrant walls of closed dilapidated supercenters, I feel as drawn inwards into myself and feel myself combine into a hot forging, though it felt not hot more cold. I see the same horns placed on Ickarus, as I, and as the fire becomes smolders, I see atop what remains and look out from the departing smoke, sense the bonds of the tree that held me release and float to the ground below.

   

  In both places I address the crowd. my counterparts are gone. I am also at my desk writing, recounting this tale, the words on the page light as mechanics, as clock work geometry from behind, as though words only frosting, to add flavor to taste, that the work lay underneath. I look into the sea of cloaked beings in the dark, as the smoke snakes its way through them. I feel a deep sublime conscience within my heart, and the awareness structures and weaves itself into the smoke as spreading among the gathered, as they breathe it in. Carried away into nothing by the smoke and wisp away. I notice that the snow covered ground has been replaced with leaves, Autumn's leaves, the trees around me are full of the same auburn and yellow reddish hair. And the smoldering fire is replaced as a soft rolling hill piled with leaves, and I upon it. Below me I see a book and a stylus with which to write within it.

   

  i wonder if all of this has only been my imagining. A moment ago when I was with the kings of renonwn I thought to speak, to make a speech. Is this my speech? Into these pages here? I sense the author at the desk, in the stone temple, I sense him within me and together we see the other us, the other me, about the great tree, where the beings covered in dark cloaks carry him away in exulted hurrahs into the dark night of the forest. There, as unlike here, leaving this plane, going elsewhere and with me taking me there. Where ever that is that here or there was not also, or what that means and implies. And now, we are three places, in one, three united, three divided, three exulted, spreading as a fire, through the bleeding smoke, departing into where we must go.

   

  I pick up the stylus, and then my eyes wake. Some other part of me, that was asleep that thought itself dreaming, I feel him and I see him as though he were someone else, somewhere else like bait upon the hook to lure me elsehwere, to connect me elsewhere as though he were the probe I send. A sentient and aware eye, collecting on my behalf. I am alone now. In these efforts. Though I wonder of the version of me that was taken into the forest, once tied to the tree. Where has he been carried and what has become of him? I see my eyes, across the continuum. I see them everywhere waking. I see the world through a vision of networked dreamers. Looking, and I wonder what do they see? I look into my book in this autumn garden, upon this autumn page and with the stylus set effort forth to it's skin, begin.

   

  And then this session for now is done.

  
  
• 

  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 1:02pm

  Xupra - Feral Directive 3- SIC

   

  Feral Directive 3:

  1) Power the Circuit/ Author and write the book

  2) Any necessary additional actions as determined by higher self.

   

  Like a Jackson Pollock, An image enters my mental field of view, a mandala type of circular blot form, hot pinks, whites, blues, and greens. Like a massive eye ball...

   

  And then, there they are, A Vision of massive 7 water falls 'transmissient' aqua marine, baby blue soft and towering thundering into a lake massive. A jungle beside it. And in the distance, several large mountain like towering structures, having the appearance of pyraminds. I throw my conscious awareness to the shapes off in the distance to investigate; yes, they are pyramids, I return to the waterfalls..... cool, green, blue, verdant, full of mystery, and wonder, a place of quiet repair and eternity, of semblance of peace, to gather ones thoughts and be clear, clean and at peace. For weary souls recharged, to use a concept from the earth dialectic. Damp, cool, humid, parched, intense.

   

  Quiet and serene, cold dark, hard rocks, substance, hard surfaces, browns, coarse, rough edges, mottled, textured surfaces, curvilinear. Serene, light adventurous, exciting, fun, intense.

   

  Floral, juicy, fruit, sweet, sugary, tangy citrus, plant life, minerally, wet, humid ... My mind drifts into a state of high receptivity, the idea of the last man on earth comes to me. "Where would I be, who would I become if I were the last?" It seems a strange thing to think in a session, but soon, there is a transformation...

   

  The truth is I wouldn't be the last, I would have the memory of an entire species calling out to me, through my body, in conversation with the eons, and the billions, pouring, pooling calling out choral voiced reaching out through me. But then where would madness be? I  would feel a need to share this with someone, to prove I was real I would imagine someone to speak with and to. And I think, how could I speak to this person as if they were real knowing they were not? How would they know they were a figment of my imagination? Being of my mind and knowing my thoughts? Some other game, a larger secret would be at work. Making unclear, making uncertain who I was and what was happening, and by whose will was deception born? It never occurs to, or is of no interest to consider such a charade would not work. An inner determination moved through me painting a scene, and dressing me in character. Of a life in desolation, and the tale of the last of my kind.

   

  My Thoughts shift to my routine, alone in the day, and yet, I would see her, as I gathered my supplies, and foraged for food. As my hair grew long and my color old. She would some how be present but not exist, filling my hours like random comments from an oblivious rhyme, I would become obsessed with proving her nonexistence looking for clues, looking for glitches, for nonsense in the pattern, in her being, anything out of place. Any shred or dangling string to sway me and my feverish investigation. She would follow me, but my need and my yearning to make her real by proving her fake would make me blind to the truth that she was a manufactured presence brought of my desire to never be alone. But was she? Who was I now? What had I become? In a world in epitaph?

   

  Time seemed to move, I would age and she would not. She would haunt the ghost I had become, and the line between what once lived and remained alive, blurred. Breaking no rule or line that no longer could be crossed. But then, something strange occurred to me. Across the time, and space that I knew her, I no longer had a sense that I was anywhere specific, or anyone concrete, I was at once young and and then very old, I was freshly minted from chaos's fire. I was weary and grayed. I was sullen and withdrawn, I was curious, I was low and bleeded away, and I was enchanted....years having gone since last I spoke, or felt the need to use my voice as a sound to reach out into anything. Or to anyone. Or that I had seen her, my stolen moments taken away. There was only darkness and ruin. And endless end.

   

  I would wonder wander so long and loud, that days smeared into themselves and night was eternal. Sleep made no difference, nor that I could tell from sanity and madness any longer. Then- she would appear, briefly, randomly. And I would speak with her, as though the decades that had passed were mere breaths apart and in between the decades, surviving, our long standing conversation, was in fact, eternal. And we continued, never skipping a beat. Over time, I grew to have a sense of myself as being something detached, removed from the physical person living in seclusion on the once vibrant and alive earth. It seemed I was alive, it seemed that my desires were intact, and the upkeep of a physical being were still rules true to me. It seemed I was real- if only to her... 

   

  And thus, I lived my days in seclusion, though time became a smear, and a wonder, a thing that I did not understand nor had the context to which I could make understanding. It was as though time itself had become unhinged. Or I from it. Separated as I had become, from the earth, from myself, from memory, from all things. And as I was shadow that grew with the falling light, shadow departing, into the east, with the coming light. But only a shadow, it was she, that kept me glued. I could see myself, as though I were a ghost, departing like a lifting stain from the clothes that wore me. And though I seemed dead to myself, it never occurred to me that I had died and that this was my hell. This languished twisting into doom. It was too real, it felt too real to be a lie. That I could be a ghost meant nothing when everything that was real only haunted what was left of the earth. Everything ghostly now. 

   

  Then one day, it seemed like a day, divided across time, captured in the memory of a mind, she came to me, different from any other time previous. It seemed this time she had come with truth. Not to play a game but to end one. I was about my fire huddled in my cave, watching the embers flicker into the night, when she quietly sat beside me. I looked to her as though through her, how long had it been, how long has it been? I wondered, my parched thoughts only now becoming apparent to me, so thirsty for human contact. So wanting to know the presence, how desperate I had become! To fall so helplessly into the first tears I had known at the mere sight of another person, even if I were imagining her, or she me. Great grief and sadness melted from my eyes, like old ruined stone returning to cleansing waters in a stream vacating away so much hate and loss. My words too choked to speak with any sense of truth, like old words knew. I had forgotten them. It had been too long. What had happened, as she pulled my weak and old head to her bosom allowing me a place to cry. She was like an angel, she had come to collect me... come to me, after so many years that she had been gone. So much time. Though I could not remember the day, I knew it there, the years, the weeks, the passage of a lifetime, somewhere stored in a book shelf work library, storied and kept astringent and preserved though its bound parchment had frayed.

   

  She was ageless, profound, she had always been beautiful, always a vision, but now she was beyond even this as she glowed with an inexplicable inner light, shone with an otherworldly grace. Somehow less human and somehow more, compassionate, and nurturing, somehow evolved. I could see the vision of a man walking through white halls, in an enclosure set apart from a void of soundless contrast, a black mass of blank unified awareness beyond the glowing white walls, I saw him as me, I was within what seemed a station, as those that might have existed in an outer space had humanity lived long enough to see itself there. I saw him as I laid my head against her, and the tears poured from my eyes, in the dim light of the cave fire. I looked into her eyes, and her form disintegrated from the shape of a being, into a presence, her skin as light, her eyes as portals drawing me home, filling me with a sense that I was departing, consumed in compassion, taken by her grace into a sense of limitless possibility, away from the this place, where I had endured alone for so long.

   

  But what came next was not the end i expected, As I looking through her eyes saw her at a cryonic plasmoidic screen, aware of her as I of myself, third party, a spectre watching action through a dream, as character and figments in a teleplay, our lives, just as they were only moments ago in a cave, and we here now in a glowing white control room, in a place where tall beings about their various consoles monitor vitals and gather data, making adjustments and interacting with what appears to be a simulation. And control consoles manipulating a grid of energy to make a cube, interfaces that access a technology within. Here they can create anything required, anything I can imagine for myself, rendered from these consoles matriculated into that space I have lived within, the simulation of myself.

   

  I am shown, the presence that I am, the Truth, or what remains of it, under glass and case of a type and sort, a skull of metal gem and stone probed through a network of analytical lights sampled.

   

  "This was me? I am this essence captured in this structure, this fragment of bone and old metal suffused together? And who is the girl?" Sometimes they use words, but intermix and intermingle thought over layered simulated session sound, responses to questions asked both aloud and as queried thought forms, "she is my lover?" It feels right to say it, but I am drawn within a deeper truth of myself, something love only hints at, but towards something yearned, hints at the way, "but who is she," their thoughts through my words, concepts sketched against the watery film of 3rd D mind like hot smothered glass in a steamy car at night, "she is the caretaker of my plight. Is she like a program?" "yes, like a program but more," finally they speak." "Does she maintain the illusion like a Gaia being?"  "Yes, similiar, of a kind, but scaled down, she keeps a transitory space, she holds down the environment, the system of systems for a more limited palette," but there is more to her, isn't there, "who is she? Is she Andromeda?" A name you might not know, but in the book, a character, and in my mind, a feminine grace, I have known for quite some time, dear to me, "yes," and i interrupt, "but what? you signal as though there was something more to it than that?"

   

  "Yes, she is a being made of program and light, she interacts with the host, with the chosen specimen who from their thoughts an apt simulation formed, one conforming to their world concept, allows us to render a suitable and believable environment where one can live out their days." "But to what end? Am I not already dead? To which they respond as the group mind they are, "the form you knew yourself to be, yes, has long since passed, you are but his shadow, his captured essence, his echo, of the being who animated you. Forever captured in this structured housing, under case, that to a type, is skull."

   

  "We have called you here, summoned you, not to help you, but to assist her. This is her training, this, a simulation for her. She has accessed your memories and we have used our mighty and immersive technology to build a world for which you to live within, rendering back into a kind of you, a life, an echo of memory, a remastered soul, of yours at the end of its reality."  "To what end?" Speaking from my nebulous disembodied state. "For her," they replied, " you are here for her." She, still looking into the binocularing awareness lensing into the aquarium dream that held my essence, she though unfrozen very still, not unaware of the unfolding events and of it all, but aloof and unconcerned in a manner to excuse herself from the minutia of it all, as though such simple matters, that we converse, are left to those beings who concern themselves with such, "then, is that also why I can speak with you now, because she wished for me to exit the desolate landscape of my world as i knew it?"

   

  "Yes, and because it was time to choose." Surprised at the reply, "to choose what?" "To choose to end the simulation." And then, the simplicity of this experiment and its original aim became to me as clear as the reason for this conversation now, things did not go as planned, it was never intended for me to become aware of these events. To me, my use was an endless eternity, a training apparatus, and a simulation of an ancient and long played record of doom.

   

  "And then, what would become of me?" After the task at hand was complete?" Thinking of the world that was mine, and the locality of mind and its resident thoughts that composed my world, me as echo always trapped within a certain fate, yearning to escape it, to seek beyond what had become of me and my people. "You would simply be returned to your data file." They sense my anguish, "your life has already been lived. And your age long gone. The world you knew, the Earth that was your home has long ago since faded into black and no longer exists but as you, as stored memory, mere file." They seek to leave no illusions, my interests are not of primary concern, and yet, they have become the field, the game space for another opportunity now in play.

   

  "Then why am I here now, if I am only a ghost and it does no good for me to know it? If I am only a file." "Because the experiment has changed. "She has made a choice, and you have been given a second chance. The body she showed you in the vision, through the white glowing halls, is your person, a body made to conform to the reality of this time and space which to your mind may not appear any different from the world your knew, but is very much different from your own. In the manner of its composition. Your skull fragment is kept in a special isolation field allowing us to access your memories but also allowing it to remain here, in our space and time, she desired for you to live once again, to see you rise from your ashes. She has always been like a program, detached and uninterested in anything like a human life, in a life so limited. Individual and small. But it was time for her to experience this, what is happening now, in order to continue her work." They make a motion to disarm my hesitations, "She has never known what it meant to be small, to be alone and individual, but through your eyes she has learned enough to move forward," confiding in me, "but not to move on alone."

   

  "How am I to believe anything that you have said, how do I know that I'm not dreaming all of this now?" walking with me through the machinery and devised mechanisms of the control room, "in a sense , you are, but for this to be occurring, it could not be your dream alone. It is also hers." I see her, watching figments dance like fantastic creatures through the electro-sheen,  hypnotically grinning into the shining spinning oblong plasma field white and bright that contained my world as it once was. She's looking wide eyed and wondrous like a child into the aquarium of a beast that enthralled her. She hears my thoughts under the dissertation of the gathered group mind administering the experiment, she looks at me staring with windowless eyes, "how can she see me if I am only a disembodied presence?" "She can sense you, she has brought you here to us. She is in control, we serve her whims and desires and to that end have served yours, for it has been her desire to investigate you. So in truth, there is no separation from her will and our being here, and your will and being here. We together serving a will that has granted her permission to investigate us and to deploy our talents and technologies to that end. It is more accurate to say that this is her dream, though for all her awareness and power she does not yet understand this."

   

  "She does not understand awareness in the way that our species having matriculated through existence, and the experiential manifold of universal society has, or that you, as once human man, had." And then I begin to understand what they have all the while been getting at, "She has never experienced love?" "She has. though not the love that we have evolved through and that killed your world. She has never felt alone and looked for salvation through love, through another, as means to escape oneself ones own self made fate. As though anything were beyond her, no. And it is in this capacity that you may help us." I feel the officiating now, they are presenting their modified authorized proposal, from where upon high, i do not know, but with a great stamp placed upon it, "we can place you in a new body, you will receive a new life, and a new mission."

   

  "You were the final astronaut of your world, who after witnessing the demise of your world from above high returned the final member of your species and kind. You suffered tremendous anguish and heart ache for many years, your pain was immense, you grieved for your planet and your species, but you did not falter in the twilight, you lived on, you endured. You looked to the heavens, to the stars, and amidst all the pain and loss found hope, sought redemption for you and your kind. You died on that planet along with all you knew, living into old age alone. Long, long ago, but remnants in a field of scattered dust, always until the last hoping and believing that you would be redeemed that you had another calling, that against the immeasurable odds, against death, that it was not the end."

   

  "And now, you shall be vindicated."

   

  "You were a curiosity, you were an anomaly to our many monitoring facilities that peer into the expanse of creation bearing witness to life in all its myriad manifestation and upon your death, we harvested your essence and have since inseminated your cultivated drive to survive and the hope that was endured in you through out the galactic cosmos to inspire and help other species facing extermination and self annihilation of a similar kind, pull back from the brink. You have become a legend, you have saved countless worlds. In all of creation, there has never been anything like you before or since. It is the reason why you were selected for this mission, and the Andromeda program. Our modeling suggested a fortuitous possible anomaly in the Andromeda Protocol, the sentient program, if she were to be exposed to your pain and plight. We did not anticipate that she could possibly fall in love with you. That she would show self interest, a compassion, and will to see your interests be served, that she would attempt to override and subvert the protocols keeping the simulation of your final years as an intact and uninterrupted repeat of your demise."

   

  "She intervened and interrupted the programming, in a sense, she expanded. And in the ways where she has become more finite and limited, she has grown. But we do not have the means to continue the experiment as it has thus far been formulated, we were not prepared for this possibility, as it was previously thought impossible for a being as pure and highly evolved, though childlike, as Andromeda, to experience anything like the love you had known on your world. But, here we are, facing the improbable. With great delight."

   

  I sense they giving me my assignment protocols, "you must love her and guide her." "Well, how am I supposed to do that?" Thinking, knowing what I know, and what became of me, and who she really is, though how we met, she was not, this glorious otherworldly sentience, still lovely and wondrous to me, without infinite power and mental expanse at her disposal, a vision of true beauty. "You already have. Don't you see,  your hope became person, your despair, longing, and your enduring hope for redemption became a personed love for her freed from an imprisonment of doom and a terminal certainty and fate. You rose, and so, exalted her. Otherwise she would not have known it or responded to it. She would not have felt the love you felt for her, and she returning that love, in kind. You have made her human. Though she is not." I was lost in a whirlwind, intoxicated by the time we spent together through the years, in a simulation where the only thing real was the feeling of it, and that I could not deny, "So then, what must I do?"

   

  "You must continue the path you have chosen for yourselves. To do this, we will be altering your essence, and your life as you have known it, as you have lived it, and so, forever be changed. You will not be the man who died all those years ago, anymore. You will be implanted in this body, the one she has created for you, as a new being, you will have no memory of these thoughts and conversations although in dreams you may recall some of what has occurred. She will be drawn to you and you, to she, as flame to moth, as mated pair. Together you will meet again and again in various reaches of space and time. Until you have played out your destinies until your love has become ripe on the vine and all permutations of your fascination with one another explored, that then, she can take her exalted place in creation and you always there by her side shall remain. As she reigns like a star, beaming over her kingdom as the Sun. Do you accept this?"

   

  "You have made her real, and now she has made you real." ...

   

  "I was walking through the halls again this morning." my head in her lap, "were you sleep walking?" my eyes closed, feeling the sound of her against flesh, "I guess so," peering deeply into the thought space where I was sent, "it was the same dream I always have." My eyes grow distant, the recounting faded, voice lost into burgeoning awareness, overpowered by an nondescript revelation, that remained elusively beyond recognition. "The one about the beings who gave you a new body and sent you here to find me so we could fall in love?" She asked mockingly. "You realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?" I turned my head toward her, in her lap, placing my head against the soft white fabric on her crouch looking up, "what, that we could fall in love?" Her smile erupts into the cutest laughter, somehow feeling slightly betrayed she could be so cruelly amused by my nonsensical confessions, "no, that aliens have nothing better to do than to play intergalactic match makers!" I shrug, repositioning myself on her lap, staring off into nowhere, "maybe love is that important." "And, Maybe you've been hit too many times in the head sleep walking down the station corridors!" ...

   

  From a disembodied observance of myself, "I can see her, I can see the world that we create together. The lives that we will lead." The group being feels my resignation and relinquished sigh; returning from the montage of our coupling and the ensuing histories as they will unfold, a vision in future past tense, "they will be filled with pain and suffering." To which they halt me, "no, they will be filled with life. And life is filled with loss, and great sorrow, and immeasurable joys and contented solace in picturesque light fading into ended days, and into feral night, cool with hungry lustful fangs and wants that prey under bite of teeth. And gnaw until blistered bitter and sour under rancid breath. But through the gauntlet of time, through it all, in sickness and in health, through death you shall never be parted, always lingering, never lost to find again one other, you will never be separated. Though the tale may portray. Your essences are intertwined. You are mated pair."

   

  "Until what? Until when? Doesn't everything with a beginning end?" "Until she recognizes her true self, until she has chosen to see, until then, you will be there to give her space while she, you, time." "And then, I'll be dust again? Just some old relic in a case sitting on a shelf? Awaiting resurrection into dust?" "No. With this process you shall be destroyed. Your life essence harvested, and reconstituted transmuted into new being, and when it's path has extinguished and into the final steps of a long journey falter back into what is small, so shall you too finally be rest and at peace." If I had a head to hang low in sadness, it would be doing so now, though they go on, "But you are thinking this is only a piece of the true me, this is only bone. What became of my soul? It endured, it moved on, you were shed, you became an archetype of a rare breed, and the soul who shot forth from you as a seed went on, that essence of awareness, that modicum of fruitful maturing, to do many wonderful things. Grateful to you for the time, and your work, in the part we all have to play for one another."

   

  "He watches on, even now, upon us," the luminescent figures look above themselves watching the presence reading and writing these words, "always he is watching and looking for connections. A fine descendant and testament to you and the effort of your species. Born of its last gasp and dwindling flame, you who those many long and lonely years kept burning hope to all creation, to what was, that it should be remembered and endure, that what is noble and graceful in us all shall never with the dying of the light perish. In great odds, and under great stress, there is a strength and fortitude within us all to find the way and now, with this act, we grant your wish, under starry night pursed lips whispered into the milky waves, we give you your second chance. ..."

   

  Somewhere beyond the construct within which all we observe and grant our sentience in the gaze, rendering reality, I sense the tireless computational presence of the true Andromeda. Not an angel but heaven herself. A pure force of endless functional equation, a feminine divine permutation in endless variation. A mighty love candling flame like an empress Sun. Yes, that is she, and we are within her now. "But she does not see herself the way she can and will see herself through your eyes. Not yet. To achieve this end, will be of great service to 'the all' and 'the all' to come beyond even that." "But doesn't all of this seem contrived and insincere, how can you ask me to just choose to love somebody so that they can become self aware?" "She is not just anybody, not yet. And we are not asking you to do anything that has not already happened. We are merely asking for you to acknowledge it and through your permission allow us to bring it fully into the real. To fully render the experience as you and she will it, through our technological means and will."

   

  "And if I were to say, 'no'?" Biding time for a worry or doubt I knew not where it came. "But do you say 'no' and would you even in a 'no' and what then becomes of your true spirit, can you deny yourself, that your true voice could be muted, in some manner or capacity to act to not achieve what it desires, knowing now itself and the possibilities? And that all possibilities thusly unleashed in such an awareness of the facts, and that becoming so much more than a man, you will have what always you have sought but never achieved, and so be redeemed. And your species reborn through you. Choose but what you will choose as so obvious a choice it makes itself?" ...

   

  Thinking, Looking at her, even now, in her state, a simple avatar, in so many ways child, and brilliant and beyond, in the control room, and I'm thinking how could I say, 'no.' Not for what will happen, or could, or might, to anyone of you or me, or us, but just the chance to love. To love-her and see her the way she looks at me. As the living ghost. When we are such strange things that have no hands, to hold one another and be real even if only in a dream. As all things must seem to be, to die again and again, knowing it was always in her arms I was meant to die. For as long as we can. For as long as I can I will love her. I will always love her.... I see a vision of the Earth, spinning green and blue, in mind, "why am I seeing this," I ask the beingness, "you are seeing the beginning, you have already made your choice and now, your children, the great descendants, are taking you to the beginning. Back to where the good work will be done. Where you will begin your long journey. Leaving all we've known everywhere home."

   

  "Are you ready?"

   

  With a long look and sigh... "yes? What must I do?"... I was standing in a hallway, when she found me. In quadrant 4. A picture of a planet from the Gaia installation before me, on the wall. Chronicling her long service through the ages and realms. "I think they called it Earth." Speaking to the eyes looking from over and behind me, "sometimes I don't feel like myself or like just myself, sometimes I feel like something more, or at least, something else, watching over myself, looking out through alien eyes, seeing other lifetimes and other worlds, living out eternity, in a crowd of guises, strange acquaintances across the pixelated faces of the metacosmos, a microcosm coming unglued. But then, her hand touches my shoulder and my eyes open and I wake. No matter when or where I am she's there. She's always there with me. My Andromeda...."

   

  "Did you have the nightmare again?" She asks me, concerned. "It's not a nightmare..." shrugging off her mitigated alarm, in a way I never intended to be so dismissive. "Well it sounds like one to me," hugging me, "the one where you're the last person alive living out one obstacle after another thinking yourself going crazy and rather than die you live on for years facing raging storms and the dying of your world, into old, old age on a dying planet, alone into a darkness swallowing a world and in you in, whole?".... "Yeah, that dream."... "And why is that not a nightmare again?" "Because it's where I meet you."....

   

  I'm back. In the laboratory once more, shaking off a dream, eyes filling with awareness like pooling rain, illuminating awareness of the control room and my presence within precipitating into perceivable form. I move as a disembodiment to the case holding my essence, speaking to the gathered entity, "Will I have hands again?" Amazed at the simplicity of my statement, they respond, "yes! And so much more." He noticed there surprise, and guessed as much, they would never understand what hands are for, when you're in love, "give me hands. I want hands again." "We will give you this and so much more." Looking bleary eyed into their bulbous sight, their masculine insectoid gaze, with a gathering cheer, "well then, I'm ready to begin."

   

  I see my essence dissolve from my perceptual awareness of itself into particles flow away like crushed leaves in the gathering wind like a iron filaments seduced into a magnetic coil. Occupying a plasma shape the group beings produce from thin bare nothingness. My sight dissipates and I am nothing. A memory of children playing in the fields, in corn fields, chasing one another through the verdant high crisp crops. The high brilliant Sun beams down on us. We're laughing and playing. Massive blue imbued hued tall beings arc over head, casting shadows tending the fields. Robotic, ambient, servile, are we that small or are they that tall? Benevolent and blue. Anonymous and Neutral, propelled by mere instinct and duty alone. The plant fields are labyrinthine. And massive...  The plasma field becomes saturated by my presence and composed into a new awareness, I stare into the Sun, blinded as though only just departed and arrived, in darkness taken away from a knowing of myself, into the void disoriented and gone. "Chip!!! Chip!!!" I hear somebody cry. "Chip," again, someone is yelling my name. I know it is my name. How do I know this?

   

  I'm wondering through tall fields following the sound and looking for the voice calling out to me. "Chip!" Pushing through parting tall stalks, and there she is, a girl in long blond hair holding sunflowers in her hand smiling with the biggest grin I've ever seen back at me. "I'm Andromeda." ... Stunned by her presence, I respond shakily, "hi! Where are we?" "We're on the farm." "Where is that?" "Oh, it's everywhere!" A bit confused, looking around as tall beings lunge about, "how long have I been here?" "Don't you remember, silly?" She giggles, leaning into my ear, whispering, I feel a magic energy shoot down my spine, "you've always been here."

   

  She holds my hand and leads me through the crops, and we disappear into the maze. Where we stood there remains something left on the ground. I feel it like an old remembrance, something familiar, a presence -no, it is someone watching. Someone we left behind, who held this moment with their gaze, giving us a place to meet. The gold suited children who orchestrated this moment. Watching from their off world monitoring stations. I see them from their nowhere perch. From the great beyond as yet it is, as it will be, as it was then, shipwrecked upon a distant mental shore, when the lives of so many have grown beyond a universe as we know it now, wildfires smoldering and spent and when all is darkness yet their is brilliance in the end to carry on the torch of being, and though creation cast in shadow, we do not dismay. For creation is always as such, made in secret, by those with so a perfect sight, it works only in blindness. To our eyes...

   

  The events withdraw, and the space fills with quiet, and then the pounding of a waterfall, bubbling, and the sound of watery waves returns. Soft gentle winds, mist in the air, picture comes to mind of me at my desk in the stone preserve, the great structure where I do my work, high in the mountains, beyond beyond....clicking whooshing, splooshing, silence, breezy humming, thrumming.

   

  Later, I join the others.

   

  In the staff of the wizard where should be the orb and stone of his trade, is a microchip. Cold dark, aware, awake, we are gathered about a fire. A wild camp fire. All we servants who attend to its eternal flame. In the simulated midnight, In the staff of the wizard spins the chip. Cold...damp dark, open, wide open, blues and blacks, logs and silence and the deep planetarium stellar cartography of an hallucinated sky. There is silence and reverence here. It is holy, it is family... vast extensive, wide, far reaching, the fairie queens are here, and the high mistresses of beingness and creation and the old cad, himself.

   

  My sight extends where others cannot see, I see as others, others who see me as an orb, through them, though rarely do I see myself as such. This time, I seem more as a technician. As a being caught from another time, a future past, a life in alternate realm displaced from an imagination and a fascination. Like a scifi character, a life on a station not a planet. Moving about the mechanism of my being, I am that from what is within the orb.... green fields, an awakening sky, all depart from the campsite where the keeping of the flame has ended and to their days work move on. The space reconstitutes itself, and the tale at hand has for now, concluded and is done. We begin with day and end with day.

   

  End Simulation.

  
  
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  Street Poet February 23, 2016 at 1:12pm

  this concludes the "feral directive" series. what follows next is the "project proteus" series. but before that, a series of 'unofficial visits' and commentary on other posts from member cadets of the XUPRA CORPS...