A Santa Fe Second

If you really want to know it, you have to live as if you believe in everything. Not trust, believe! Everything is significant and insignificant at the same time. Every moment has a peak and a trough. The most fundamental nature of material reality is a network of waves.

The smoke from the old woman’s lungs branched into the afternoon air, resembling the ramifying labyrinth of the delicate alveolar tree through where it came.

Somewhere in the vicinity, the waves hit the shore as she grew older by the second. The light from the sun moved slowly and the wind changed somethings too. If you really thought hard now, you could even feel time flow.

Reality vibrated in a rhythm. Colors spoke in sounds. In the background, she inhaled the life out of a red glow that harnessed energy through the burning tobacco. In a different dimension nicotine molecules were dancing with the nerve cells in her head. Somewhere in the vicinity was her entire life history.

Another second passed by. The woman grew grayer.

The moment seemed to divide into two equal lives. The left was bright and the right was dark. There was symmetry in black and white.

"Maybe as we grow older, we run out of the storytelling abilities that childhood sprouted in us. Maybe the entire purpose of those fantasies was to simply live. Is that what we began to miss, as we faded into yesterday? Makes sense", she thought to herself.

A blank canvas has a simple story to tell.

Eventually there is a blotch of a color, followed by a line. Then there is a streak of fibers and grains. There is gold, orange, and green along with the textures of wood and steel. A hand withdraws and takes a step behind. A pair of blind eyes watch from a distance. Oh what must they see? What must it be?

A moment in time.

The evening melted into her pale-white skin. The darkness collapsed on her dusty black clothes. The wind blew a few more seconds as tiny grains of sand changed places in the air.

Then sunlight disappeared into her old black eyes.

In the end, there were just pinholes, reflecting smoke against a yellow sky and speeding incredibly through her memories.....

....till they brought her mind back to this present moment.

Meanwhile, more smoke danced as the street lights turned green.

Sunday April 29 2007 11:21 am

Do you remember Sunday mornings?
how many of them you've had?
The first hour of the first day
the week in its beginning?

Listening to Dylan at times
and at times listening to Marley
you hardly ever realized
that those were the unique times

Toasted sandwich over green tomatoes
a blurry sunlight making past your bed
incense burning in the neighborhoods
I feel a strange memory in my head

Do you remember all those Sundays?
The morning steam over tea cups on streets?
- the motion of the public buses
taking you somewhere some place to meet.

Try one

Plastic soldiers
are covered in dirt
there's a weary sky
fluttering under her skirt

A bird from a weather
that had gathered together
from here somewhere
the wind had howled

the world had turned
into an automatic twirl
completely alone
the ribonucleic acid burned

Eyes open
to a different sun
but before you leave
would you like to try one?

Epitomes of Epiphanies?

contd. from

Consciousness occurs at a slow pace. It is like a gradual stage of blaring through silence into noise beyond our hearing limits. One doesn't know exactly. There are weird times of the day or night when understanding dawns. It may be the most unexpected situation for an eureka moment.

You never know instantaneously about profound realizations.
Your epiphanies and discoveries are hidden under and behind layers of ambiguities.

Lucy realized this and that in itself was a step closer into a new level.

Ones madness is a whim unearthed. Apology for an ego washes fear into truth.
There is an artistry in the brief sincerity of the moment when people stop existing and persons come alive. The truth of a purpose sprouts at a moment of a rare blip.

Individuals have never been as engaged in a revolution as they are when facing the limits of their programmed lives.

In such moments, occurs consciousness.
In such moments, the limits are crossed. In such moments, creatures who cannot fly, take giant leaps of imagination and invent time travel.

In such moments, history is made.

Consciousness is a message to ourselves. It is a moment when we come full circle with our historical egos.

What happens now? Hopefully something wonderful!

Lucy reached the end of a quest, which had no beginning.

And then, she took a giant step outside her mind...