Dressed in color
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- - - by @d-pend - - -
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Dressed in color
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A day has come for me — knocking at my door with what sounds like brass. "The waking world requests the honor of your presence in attending to the minutiae of physicality. Complimentary refreshments will be served. Come see the great warriors battle it out with wires and flails! Only Rs. 3500." Another day, another bloody advertisement. I toss it in the wastebin — but honestly really consider attending. The offer sticks in my mind. I've got to get out of this cave of keys and cords and switches to clear my head. There's a whole world of light out there. Still, there is work to be done — so I sit down and begin to type.

. . .

In ideation existence is broad, vague, abstract — in action, refined and narrow. That same crisp action may, however, feel quite inexact in the doing — every decision a warpath through primal rainforest. A handful of herbs and vines are necessary, a few isolated groves perhaps... yet acrelong troves are plundered instinctually before manifest-destiny-mind relinquishes its grasp upon the spiraling locus of control of the spinal column of the would-be conquistador.

Earth has a mulatto sky. Moon and sun transcend color. Modern-human eyes have only a few cones — most nuances of hue are dead to us, who grope in a terrestrial bleakness, strain in the microscopic pinpricks of light peeking down into the vast cavern of matter. Eyes so long attuned to darkness cannot but behold all light as binary — the stones about one are black, the sky somewhere must be white as evinced by the tint of its scarce rays, and the water that trickles through the obscure cracks and crevices of the cave ceiling and wall must be the color of the soul — to more accurate orbs than ours.

. . .
I shut the screen of my laptop, and go out whistling to the tune of:

Codes and waiting cyphers,
cypresses and alders,
oak and silicon:
dressed in monochrome.