20100413

THE ORTIST

~~~image by Masha Vasilkovsky~~~


TIME: The Edge of the Last Fractal before the Next Bloom

PLACE: The Landspace Contimuum

1. Once upon a time, twice upon a time, thrice upon a time...that's six times upon a time now, henceforthwith dot.

2. The Landspace was lush, the time planes were synchronized to a gentle buzz with flurries of excentricity and inebriating odors.

3. There, was i me myself her she we us&them ours, not you yourself & they but you and all of us. you & me. flee. be. tree. 1, 2, 3. Ready steady go. No time is no time like space.

4. Four, knock on the door. The time of the Ortist has come. The digits show the way.

5. Messages from the stream. Order from chaos.

6. So the landspace goes under attack and riproarers bellow, beckon, behold. The Rhizome uproots, implodes, rises to reveal our connection.

7. Chaos to lyrical. Life teaches us to dance. Our teacher is the hub and the shuttle through the weave of our complex emotions. We follow her as she follows us. Our heads raised, faces upturned burnt by the sparks from our minds. Bodies spinning, intertwining.

8. At night the bird beeps mournfully, a faint heartbeat of our vitality as slumber whispers in our ears. Reassures our realities that they are not intentional programs but real and honest, and random, and destined, and parallel and unprecedented. Interconnected being.

9. The Promised Land is molded into our own flesh and blood.

~~~image by Masha Vasilkovsky~~~


3 comments:

Ron said...

I love a woman who uses mathematics and Art to discuss Time

xo, R

Masharius said...

We are points of a star, dear Foot, the words of your soul are healing and pensive
my word of verification is 'go mont'
i imagine a fluorescent puppet saying them in a darkened space filled with smoke parfume of burning Rosemary offering to the spirit of Memory (to a captive audience in a forgotten place)

Ron said...

Memory. If only we could render our memories into something solid -- if only by sheer will -- then one could conceievably exist endlessly. To You and Me and when memories are less and more than gossamyr.