The last of its kind

Right now, time didn’t matter at all, he was living outside of it, time was merely a consequence of himself. Traveling from one end of the galaxy to the other, through the depths of the chilling darkness, he was searching desperately for someone, eagerly trying to find anyone like him.

He found himself at the birth of a new eon, he could name it anyway he wanted, since he was the last of his kind. He became harbor of history. He desperately moved from one world to another through veils of mist of the past lost in a long forgotten memory, a mystery claimed by no one. The thought of all these ancient worlds was hidden in a tear somewhere, a melancholic drive for an ancient nostalgia. He saw that all these spaces which once belonged to his race remain just a void now. Humans are not what they once were, they’re no longer anywhere to be found. Never finding the wisdom within him to realize whether this is a good thing or a bad one… it could be both, symbiosis hidden somewhere in some elusive heavenly values.

This entropic barrier which is moving time in a single direction was useless for him, because in the essence of his humanity lied the chaos of mixing tenses. The future was entangled with the past, and his present felt like a resentment with a feeling of nostalgia left behind… a nostalgia for the oblivion and all the first beginnings.

The nature of his thought became wicked in madness, it was twisted from a distant cry, a faraway calling. This calling echoed a presence buried deep inside every strain of amino acids in his blood. In this state of awkward enslavement of oneself, he remembered a youth before he started to conquer his dreams. Then there were hopes, ideals, emotions, other people. Now, for the first time in his ancient life he was denied of everything, and this became a cause for spiritual exile which lied in the foundation of his curse. His hollow shell was void of humanity, filled on the edges only with hungry demons. His fear was woven in pain, and bred in sorrows and empty despair. His breath was heavy, old from exhaustion.

And he stood there across the abyss of all human fears and sufferings.

With a pride of a solitary sole, he found out that he was condemned to his marrow, awaken from nightmare just to enter another.

Uncharted sands

There it is, his everlasting desert. A desert with tales of ancient deeds aged in the wisdom of the sand, forgotten in the pain of the fresh desert wind.

He kept on moving forward, never looking back. He knew that back there nothing’s left, at least not for him. All the symbolic of this desolate realm capture his inner condition. His presence, even everything he had represented as far as he can tell, is hidden somewhere undreamed in this undiscovered landscape, on this forgotten world. He walked persistently on the sand, despite the friction, he felt as there was no ground beneath him in this region sculpted for no humans.

In this place he wasn’t accompanied by any color, there also weren’t neither darkness nor light left for his tired blue gaze. He kept on grabbing for the mystic which lied before him, curious by nature, and yet unthinkable and unknown to its very core, despite eons of knowledge gathered in his ancient life. He opened his senses to receive the desolation and the totality in silence surrounding him. This tranquility was a cherished gift to harbor, a serenity which had incorporated itself deep within the bones. From the core within there was glitter with an ember of a secret sun projecting itself outward, through the pores of the skin.

This unnatural emergence had brought back the freshness in his breath and the sparkle in his deep blue eyes. He felt alive again in this nonplace, right here, amongst the stars and all the the secret moons… in his kingdom made of sand, a kingdom of one.

Architects of our prisons

Life forms never require order, they live outside of it. Life by definition is a self regulating process manifested through evolution and its tools, such as: environmental linking, rhythms of evolution, adaptation through cybernetic feedback with its positive and negative rule. Life in essence thrives in chaos.

Human race is a typical example. We adore loops, in cycles we find identification. Our society and mutual interactions always lead away from order, and into chaos. When exiting turbulence we are governed by positive cybernetic feedback, developing relations, bettering society, improving living standards, refine economy etc. And at some point our relations break, and we’re governed by negative cybernetic feedback, creating turmoil around us, when we destroy what we’ve built, even ourselves.

We are entropy of reality, a surreal natural phenomenon. Our views are anthropocentric, they’re beyond logic, beyond understanding. Our narcissism is authentic and in our roots.

We show affinity for drifting, since drifting is a human concept. New experiences are understood in conformity with the old ones, we like to perceive knowable ideas and events, creating inertia not only habits, but also in thinking as well.

Our dreams for future and eternity are constructs of our past and present. All this vastness encircling from beyond, all this depth within, all these souls breathing all around; they can be overwhelming every now and then, confuse us at times.

And we go even further, we like to create illusions. Mind constructs designed to delude ourselves. We compare ourselves to perfection, since our self love is vast. We never chase it, perfection is yet another dissipation of reality. A ruin built from an ancient one.

These old habits of ours create painful addiction, so seductive by nature, so much intoxicating, oh so very destructive. A familiar entrapment, closest form of behavior.

Cages made of freedom, contradiction in terms – us.