(no subject)

[robinbloke]

You're in a field, the wind blowing the corn so it flows like waves of the sea around you. Above you marshmallow clouds slowly chase each other across the pale blue sky. The warm light of the sun makes the hairs on the back of your neck tingle, a shadow cast in front of you on the ocean of stalks.
At the end of the field a row of trees in technicolor green form a wall against the waves of the field are rolling, while they themselves too slowly wave and rock in the wind.

Someone told me something once, it was about how the world relates to you and how it sees you. How the eye of the universe turns in on itself for a moment to reflect on the thing inside it that is looking out, wondering the same thing that it is.

I wrote a poem about how a star might see the universe, or more specifically how a singularity - a so called infinity surrounded other objects, which means it cannot be as so.

Or was it a contextual infinity? Within the bubble of it's own influence, the sphere of its own timeframe that it perceives what it is and looks out... seeing nothing beyond the edge of its existance as it sucks more and more into itself in order to understand what it is, changing its own nature by the very act of doing so.

Then the eye closed and it all fell apart, bricks and mortar scattered to the winds, then shards, then dust, then nothingness.
Under that lie the question it was asking in the first place, at least to its current thoughts, the question didn't know what it was looking for either, but it was there nevertheless. With no answer or direction for it to seek it just was an idea of a query rather than a question itself.

It couldn't ask what it wanted to, because it didn't know what it needed to ask, or understand what the thought was trying to direct it to. Meaningless circles curled around it in ever decreasing spirals of introspection until the infinity was reborn again.

And the trees waved on at the edge of the field. Silently mocking those who stood and watched.

Comments

[briggsy.livejournal.com]

You're in a field, the wind blowing the corn so it flows like waves of the sea around you. Above you marshmallow clouds slowly chase each other across the pale blue sky. The warm light of the sun makes the hairs on the back of your neck tingle, a shadow cast in front of you on the ocean of stalks.
At the end of the field a row of trees in technicolor green form a wall against the waves of the field are rolling, while they themselves too slowly wave and rock in the wind.

What Now? examine corn

You spy something amongst the swaying stalks! You can see a small silver disc with 'Prodigy' written on it.

What Now? 

[robinbloke.livejournal.com]

Oooo gimmie :)