Diaries of the Fall
When Prince AhziRa was young, his kingdom was overthrown by a Universal Terror. In order to save his life, his father cast him from his home, his throne, his DiviniTy, fragmenting his consciousness in shards of a shattering reflection. Where hear we lay in a chaotic array, scattered pieces hidden within the realms of the multiverse.
Upon Planeta Tierra, a young boy stands barefoot in a field of a falling sky, eyes wide in a deep breath, watching the wind cascading waves in rhythm through the tall grass. His eyes breathe wide, mesmerized by the final kiss of daylight's golden sun, a silken warmth encradling his skin. His mind, an open hand, seen in synapse to connection.
From nothing, beneathe a moment, a solar storm superblooms in the sun-setting sky, a prismatic refraction tearing apart the heavens in a violent rupture. Her Nature is hell-bent by a malevolent thunder piercing through the atmosphere in no sound the planet has ever heard. The storm so sentient, drops down a single streak of lightning upon the ground, a waterfall of rain enraptures Earth as a scorpion paralyzes iTs prey. The boy falls down, to Flame Devour.
All "I" memory erupts in the kiss of God. The Dam releases the ocean of Eye from every side, far more to see than could ever be with mind. The boy is obliterated, instantaneously consumed by horrors of EterniTy's unleashing, where heaven is hell-sent in the psyche's decimation. Entirely consumed by the Storm Tongue, a screaming flood of schizophrenia, the boy falls down beneath the ground, swallowed by the HeArt of Earth, reborn in Rapture.
Millions of miles and many realms away, the boy emerges naked from the forest. Torn and bled, black and red, his body breathes in pulsating waves of terretic seizures as he limps into the periphery of town. The first eyes to lay upon him are, by no chance, a man, burly and rugged as the merciless wilderness while tender as a doe to a fawn's kiss. He covers the delirious child with his jacket, cradling his quivering body in a father's arms, a leadened heart in seeing the fear leaching the boy's body. Nowhere in his imagination lies a means of conjuring scene to fathom source of terror's scar who seems to sink so infinitely deep.
As they ride home, his young daughter has already lit a fire. Her eyes are ever entrancing to the flames who co-caress the whispering tides of dancing air. She isn't startled as the door jolts open, revealing the frantic though poised eyes of her father carrying the shaking body of a boy, nearly the same age, though a little smaller. Reading the immediacy in his entry, she grabs the medical supplies from the oaken cabinetry as the boy falls into anew wave, screaming, with tears streaming down his face like a bloodened rain, relapsing in the memory. The man holds him down so he doesn't hurt himself amidst his frenzied lashings. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his voice cuts out, and his body breaks into thunderous wakes, , impossibly stronger than the boy's body could be. Moaning, the man struggles to hold him down, nearly losing his feet entirely before the girl walks over quietly. With one finger she touches him softly, and his whole body falls silent.
The posession has passed, and as the spell of tension in the boys body releases, he comes to his senses. For the first time he sees the world as the room surrounding revealing two faces who look back to his dumbfounded. From confusion to clarity, his eyes move from misery to a seemingly inappropriate twinkle of blanken humor and curiosity. Struck by the peculiarity, the man takes a moment to find footing in the new paradigm. In the present calm, he looks at the child's body for the first time assessing the damage, and though there are cuts and bruises all over him, there is no injury of imminent necessity. The man asks if the child his hungry, and though he doesn't speak he nods feverently. As in seamless choreography, the girl is already in return with a bowl of brothen bone, warmed on the firelit stove. When it arrives in front of him, his eyes ignite and he happily inhales.
Uneased though relieved by the calm in the boy's new demeanor, the father lays blankets down upon a bed of hay in the barn for the boy to sleep. Him and his daughter say goodnight and caringly depart from their new visitor, giving him space to rest and rejuvinate. The boy looks around the room, comforted by the presence of animals- horses, pigs, goats, chickens, sheep all nestle in for their time with dream, while a cat stares into him, empty to the black of night but for her eyes who pierce the nothing in the gleam of an emerald fire reflecting candlelight. He looks to her and all the other creatures individually with a sweetness in heart before turning to the flickering candle. Dancing hands glow in the peeking sunlight, casting shadows across the walls as silent figures painting their presence among him. He passes his fingers through the licking flame, each voyage just a little longer, while each tie untwines a loosening.
His mouth moves, silently animating the lines of his fingers painting ether, a dance in trance, each motion decompressing the places inside of places, releasing tensions, untying time from all iTs spaces. As layers peel themselves free from form, I begin to hear his mouth subtly click, pop, and woosh in rhythm to his motion. Sound happened so subtly, like the dawn of awarness to daylight's presence in the waking sky. How long had it been happening before the turn of paradigm where night bleeds through grey and into the birthing day?
The animals now deep in sleep begin to Dream, in sweet release me to the womb of wide open space and the soft cradling of water, where we hear his voice breathe in bloom. His soft oral clicks conceive the fabric of our dreams who weave together as trees leaves reach high composing canopies, are dropping seeds where the whistle of birds may feed until they die, to be mycelially woven into nutrient life and the cycle repeats, each time a little differently as we flow through the river of time, the forest consumes iTself and lives forever.
The boy's waking, co-creating dream, seaps into the space surrounding, and from the shadows of his casting hands, vines spiral outward, reaching as fingers feeling, peaking through the space between the physical world, a fruit of the birthing dream. Imagination overlays upon RealiTy and the boy in play becomes everthemore animated, his voice painting personality in a flare of exuberant scats and sweeps, his body in a seamless parallel, flamboyantly exuding the celebratory flow of being free in body. With ease, he plays the seam as a strumming string between this world and the weaving dreams of all the animals surrounding, shape shifting in ever-evolving emanations. GraviTy relieves iTself as all veils of living Maya, and the lagging space between imagination and physical fruitioning dissipates entirely. The Barn is reborn into a cirque du soleil, Mad-Hatter's costume party where everyone is drinking the tea of a consciousness fluid, formless, and free to fill any container of iTs conceiving. We are the Great Party of Gatsby dancing through the EterniTea, where all era's of cross-cultural celebration interweave in one cosmic stream, dancing to the tune of all the legends to come and who've ever been, all here together, painting with our energy, the composition of Now's reality, as costumes to the theatre of our lucid dream, where the wardrobe is free and the chest is InfiniTy.
Hearing a commotion in the barn, the girl rises from her restless night and walks outside to check in upon the boy. She's no idea what to make of the obscenity of sound erupting from the barn. Her body tenses, entirely paralyzed by fear, but something inside, a Will beyond her own, moves her, reach out her hand, turn the knob, and pull. Ocean's unfold, a myriad of color cascades from the crevase as a psychedlic storm of all creation in orgy. Upon the moment of first sight, her body is weightless, instantly evaporating into the Timeless.