Beyond the Fabric of the Finite: Look past these eyes

Beyond the Fabric of the Finite: Look past these eyes

A Story by Irma Chavez

The beast has a beat of its own, no heart, but a beat non-the-less. I can’t seem to be able to find a true center, or an outer boundary, all I can picture is the symbol for the infinite. The bones have been found and now the song has been chosen by an unknown someone else. The group sings over the bones, rebuilding the woman’s soul that was eternally chained and subjected to the pretentious moralizing blows of the decrepit modern world by its own melancholic choice. Maybe the dark isn’t as bad as we blindly believe. After all, suffering words have left us a primeval trail of wisdom�" of ripened knowledge�" of something decaying, buried and forgotten. 

We’ve attained three levels of hearing. One picks up on the grim sounds of the mundane, the everyday chatter that abounds and says nothing, means nothing, amounts to Slipknots lyric: PEOPLE EQUAL S**T. The second set of ears is for learning and the arts. When profusely bleak beyond the merely decorous, their arabesque beauty spreads through airs holly ground. What do they hear at this moment? The opportunity to pick up on some of the skills that have forever been building the bodies of stars that surround and mold me�" the cunning fact is no life is truly wasted�" that limiting comfort does not exist. Whether it wants to expand consciousness or not, it continually does for it’s nature requires it so, even in this loud, meaningless party of bewilderment. The third listens, forever listens from the place of unlimited depth that exists on a parallel plane with the soul, it listens to the munificent whole. Vibrating the lowest hum to transport us to the lands of sharp paradisiacal flight.

 Overlooking the abyss we are at the very edge of the world�" right now we run fully detached from that which came before and comes after our own awareness�" from beginning to end. Both relentless forces rhythmically reach for the other through us, finishing the cycle of infinity�" that twisted 8 that has collapsed on its side, straining to creep along in no particular direction.

This body holds to the One and is lifted and adjoined to the crashing waves of songs that swirl, created by chaos in the nothing space, forging order in the destructive lives of mine. Someone stands beside me and distracts me. Take a drink. We all do it for FREEDOM.

© 2013 Irma Chavez

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Added on June 24, 2013
Last Updated on June 24, 2013
Tags: listening, music, infinity