Illusion of True Power/True Illusion of Power

“I have been dancing to this insane silence for a while now. Those – the cynics who used to sing of the perfect world turn inward to silence as I being to dance. It seems rudimentary to me, their state of mind. I could create a universe. But then why would I when I could dance around, splash about, spoil someone else’s.”

They came from two different worlds – the authors of destiny in this universe. They went around looking for echoes of voices that according to them should have existed – but were instead seamlessly drowned in a metaphysical carnage – a murder of every day everyday. So they decided to turn it around. They decided - because they could - that they would engage themselves forever in an inescapable servitude. To me, they came and whispered, “we’re going to be the gods of this universe. May you wish to live in exile, you’re free to leave – attempt and create a new world just like us – but we cannot offer you a stake in this – this one is ours. May you choose to stay – you’ll never again have the power to question us.”

Just as often it happens, the wiser do perform the most stupid of moves. Still a stupid move is better than a foolish one. I, along with a few others, made the right decision and the wrong choice. We were all stupid enough not to let any single person take control. We were now exiled from the world you know. Now, we were stuck in eternity – free as anyone could ever be, ageless – condemned to freedom indeed – condemned to power too. We could have done anything we wished. We couldn’t make a decision off infinite choices.

After about 3 centuries of pondering we landed at a consensus. And as we did, I burst out in laughter. This laughter was of utmost significance. But no one seemed to pay attention. They all just stared with scorn. The most complicated of the problems have the simplest of solutions – but we often doubt their efficacy. Why, you ask! It’s simple – because it’s simple. 

We decided to create a new world – an illusion of a new world to be precise. The greatest democracy in the cosmos since its creation – a universe where no one would serve no one and yet everyone will be the most powerful. We decided to let each one of us create a world with the rest of us as humans. We made everyone everyone else’s god. It was decided that we would all fall asleep for eternity and would lucidly dream of a universe where everyone else was a mere projection of their memories. It wasn’t easier for everyone to accept this. Some even chose to remain in exile and come up with a better solution. 

Since then we have been resting peacefully – asleep in a sweet surrender to the illusion of being a god. But recently something unexpected happened - one of us – well, I - woke up. I woke up because I had served my purpose as god – in my universe I had nothing left to do. What is the purpose of a god, you may ask. Let me explain.

To begin with let me introduce you to my own little paradox of ultimate existence. It is a silent war between submission and absolute freedom. How did I come about this? I myself was the one to suggest the solution to the ultimate problem of each of us being gods. But I was the one most against it. I could not stand the idea of being a slave to all of them, in all of their worlds. I despised the thought. I abhorred the concept – and that is why I put it forward – because I knew it would be accepted – and for that I abhorred them all. 

I was the last one to fall asleep – I saw all that they dreamed of. Some were overridden by idealism and attempted at creating a peaceful world - Some on the other hand, tyrannous as they were, dreamed of everyone else at their misery. But what do most do with absolute freedom – they dwell into the ordinary, become complacent – even if they are gods. So most just went on imagining a ‘normal’ world – just like the one you know.

I on the other side of general conceptualization of power, remembered something from my human life. I knew that power unless seamless, and effortless was no power at all. I decided to create lawless perfection, a world of crystal - flawless and yet fragile. I had to. 

I imagined a universe tantamount to eternity. I figured out a way to deceive everyone into believing that they were still living outside time. In my world, where I was god – there was no one god. In this sublevel of cosmos, in this method of existence – once again I made everyone everyone else’s god. 

I imagined a world of infinite gods – where no one was more powerful – in a way that everyone was ultimately powerful - where anyone could do anything. I burdened everyone’s projected conscience with the ultimate responsibility – the choice from infinite options. In this world my personal projection was in no way superior. This was the only way I could achieve my purpose. In this world of gods, to which I was the god, I was in fact just a god. 

So, while all others thought of a world of humans with themselves as superior to everyone. I contained and locked away my true imagination, my instinctual drive in a box of black. I imagined a world of gods – a duplication of how the cosmos was really meant to be. I created a perfect world by imitating the most criticized and yet the most fundamental design. How this world would survive, you may ask. It wouldn’t. 

Now that I have woken up, I stand in eternity – where all other gods lay motionless, entrapped in their personal wills, influenced by me. In the humanistic understanding of power, you could say that I have established my control everywhere, forever. Where all the gods of the ultimate reality fell to the simplest trick – where they were so overtaken by the idea of ultimate power that they mistook my laughter of wickedness for mockery, I can claim to be the ultimate god. 

And for the world that I created – that I imagined – no longer needs my presence, I would leave it to itself. I have left my imagination to linger in eternity to test what it is capable of. Let them figure out a solution for what they would do in a world of infinite gods – which in fact doesn’t even exist.

“From the diary of a god who thinks his world exists”

-          The ultimate god.

“Uh...  wait a minute..”

TO BE FOLLOWED BY THE NEXT BIG BANG.

Zukzwang in prose

(Zukswang - A state in Chess, when the only viable move is not to move)

What do you see when you look into the future? A world of realized dreams, of possessions, of possibilities? What is human existence all about? Why do we all struggle until the end? Why do we taper our conscience with endurance? Why do we go out into the wild only to tame the self? Why do we chase the material, only to be inevitably drawn, and inescapably stuck in it?

The answer is implicit in our views of the future. We all collectively strive for a single thing. Each one of us is suffering all that one is suffering to pursue that one thing – something that no one else has. It is in itself pretty ironic that what we look for is in essence the same, and yet must necessarily be dissimilar. We’re all alike looking for something unlike everyone one else’s everything. We suffer, kill; we indulge ourselves in a mockery, a horseplay that eventually turns into a game of life and death – as if we could outrun death by the virtue of that sole possession.

The idea of death as a concept is conspicuously inevitable, and yet so mysteriously imminent that one can at the least attempt to flee and at the best persist in vein.

Often, as it happens, this vision, this thing of ultimate covet leads one farther and farther from oneself – towards a cognitive event horizon – the point beyond which there is no return. What happens when one reaches this place, this point in time? I have no answer!

What is that one thing for you? What is that one of the many possibilities that would constitute a window of perfection in time? What is it that you wish to have which no one else has?

When I leap into the future, I see not a world of possibilities but of impossibilities. There are infinite boundaries that prevent me from reaching out to the wish of such possession. How do you live through convinced of the impossibilities? Does it set me free then, of the race against time, the race against everyone else, or does it chain me to myself?

“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere” is indeed one of the hardest problems, one that poses a threat to individual freedom – a choice. Even harder is “Where would you go, if you could not go anywhere” – what sort of trickery is that? A choice between impossibilities!

So I ask myself, question my very existence, my purpose – Why am I here? What am I doing without a purpose? And most importantly – who am I? Am I still me, as I would be had I not my life but the will to be anyone but me?

If you must run, run faster. If you must stay, stay still. Blindness is fundamental to fearlessness. If you must see, you must doubt. This implicit contingency of awareness will not let you be convenient nor arrogant. You must only be confused, fearful!

This is the state when to find a purpose becomes the purpose. There is no end to this battle, no peace to this war.

I don’t wish to die a warrior. I don’t wish to live in a battlefield. I wish to live in peace. I wish to die in peace.   

Zukzwang

I’m surrounded by things, deafening

Distant, detached, with nothing to kill for

No one to die for, not angry, reckoning

Things! Not mine, things nonetheless,

I’m surrounded by people, clamouring

Surrounded, and yet lonely, scared

Longing to be alone, at peace, with myself

People! Strangers, people nonetheless

I dreamt of dreaming a dream, real

Asleep, of a world of no more than a few

My world, my personal little crew

Dreams! Unattainable, dreams nonetheless

End 1

Gonna stay in this reality, profane

Rebel, go down fighting ghosts

A loyal warrior, an unreasoned battle!

Reality! Wicked, reality nonetheless

End 2

Gonna run free, without no one, with me

Tired. Leave the ball and the chain

Gonna laugh, cry, scream, lie. Give up.

Freedom! Guilty, freedom nonetheless.

Erebus

I have found myself - found myself to be lost.
I have discovered myself - discovered myself to be infinite.
I have fought myself - fought myself as invincible.
I have seen myself - seen myself as only a dream figure
So I shaped myself - shaped myself to be fluid.
And I bound myself - bound myself to be free.
And so I define myself - define myself to be indefinite.
I am no longer what I have been, not yet what I am to be. For now, I am only an evolution - an evolution of someone - someone I'm yet to meet.


"And there came the devil to the insolent child,
on wings of savor, singing of love, to him so wild.
The guardian angel had just fled sight
for he, in an uncanny pretense stood upright
for no good reason, fearless, with all his might
... he stood upright for the first time again,
by death's side, aware that life wouldn't remain."

Reply to a suicide letter

 Alix  Stradon

 I must have read your letter a hundred times now. I know it by heart, especially the part where you speak of all your dread. But I waited until today to write back. You must wonder why. I’ll tell you soon. I hold the least of interest to empathize or to find a legion in those hordes of yours. Be not relieved, I have not re-found the respect or love that I once renounced to rot in an unidentified corner of an unfamiliar city. In fact I wish to contest, no! defy your last thought, confront your departing words, and if possible race you in your run for death.

In our last conversation, I remember, you looked exhausted, vulnerable and powerless, like a soul overborne with loss. I vaguely remember all that you said, because honestly, I could hardly get past the fright in the sound of your voice to pick on the words. It burned like an eternal splinter in my heart, your drift to the other world. 

I had questions I could have asked and danced off my victory over your silence. But it would have done no good. To refuse life is indeed a decision of as strong a disposition as it would be to return to life afterwards. Sooner or later, you’d have had it your way. You had let go of me, your gravity, as you wrote. You were floating in an empty white space where the clock didn’t tick, where it didn’t rain. In such a space you were lifted. There, only death could be your companion.

You said to me once, “If a day spent with you could bring me to life, I wonder if a lifetime of companionship would make me immortal.” So what was it that made you fear life more than death itself? Why did you choose to believe in  a future so full of anguish, so inspired by your dark past that you were blind to the celestial bright of your dreams? What would go wrong with the world if everyone understood the minimal of their responsibilities? Nothing! More importantly, what gave you the right to act like you were the only one left alone, abandoned, closer to the worst than anyone else? 

Perhaps if you knew the answers to these questions, you’d not have left here in the first place. But this is not the time for questions, not anymore. But I do wish to tell you something. It is this – where good can’t stride, evil stands up with pride. 

I don’t, and believe that I never will understand how men could leave this world, if at all by their own hands, in the moments of undeniable despair. How would their souls contain any life ever again knowing that the last ended in such disgrace? How could anyone find a purpose, a longing satisfaction when their last memory is so filled with terror? What is it that makes us not live for the things that we claim, are worth dying for, by forsaking life itself?

I’d rather die in the happiest moment of my life, embrace and contain that ecstatic memory for an eternal bliss. You may argue though, that this thought is itself rooted in fear of a tomorrow worse than today. But I know fear too well, as well as I know pride. While the former has scrounged my very life form, I have practically survived on the latter. 

One thing I know very less of is love, although I have experienced emotions of unnameable nature, far superior to it. And by virtue of something similar, I feel happier than I have ever been. 

I’ve heard that knowing how ignorant you are is the first step on the path to wisdom. I believe knowing how ignorant others are, must be the last. I guess this will just be another of the luxuries I’ll have over you as far as life is concerned – you left it in an outspoken gloom and I will in a secret elation.

A Drifter's Ballet

Dance with me, my friend, for we are

Lost pieces of the puzzle, a blasphemy in itself,

That perhaps the god put right, yet afar

Stood so fond, the devious elf

And yielded upon us the melodious song

Of forbidden verses, to which we do not belong

So dance with me, my friend, for we are

Partners in crime brought together in despair,

Struggling for life, surviving for the next war

Like flickering sparks flaring through moist air.

Dance for once to this exuberance, this enticing plot

That never fails to torment, a torment unsought!

Dance with me, my friend, for we are

Ghosts of the oblivion, forgotten by all.

Yet reminded of the other by the falling star

In corners of dark rooms, through windows that stroll

And flow in trance and in ecstasy of time and space,

Inspiring a dream devoid of reality, an evasive face!

But wait! Hold your spell for a life longer, and your dance

For a music wiser, for this as well may again

Be desperation’s trap, a deceptive chance

For once the devious elf is spun out, what may remain

Without a sin, of the partners of crime, of the ghosts,

Of us, when despair and anger are no longer our hosts?

The Waking Paradox

So, you have a dream, evasive as it can be, like everyone else’s – not only good, but perfect. You have embarked on your heartless journey to this mindless conundrum. The inflexibly insatiable holes on the pavement challenge your belief, and sooner than now, more than often you realize that ‘good’ would have been enough. You realize that perfection comes at a cost, a perfect cost!

You do what you can to fight the big plan, you punch holes through the walls of destiny, break your only pair hands in doing so. What next? A sweet surrender! Amused, yet silently raged you add a hint of imperfection to the bowl, a nuance of what could have been – replaced by that should be.

But this is not the end is it, then? The creator throws in uncountable events, glamorously garnished with unbearable emotions, but the devil always comes to rescue. You know the solution – Replace the perfection, the best thing with the next best thing. That what used to be a struggle has become a habit, effortlessly painful in execution.

The apparent death of the originality of your dream, in its wake, leaves behind a question of undeniable significance, and of no use whatsoever! The question – “what next?” You try to crawl under, rise over this question. But there’s no escape. You try to hide and there appear a million doors with a single key. You try to turn behind, and there’s just one door with a million keys. All that remains of your life is a paradox!

This is who I am – The waking paradox. All that remains around me is a tantalizing imperfection, an unattainable desire that I never really wanted. This is the paradox – you can’t have what you seem to want.

End 1 (Practical, Intellectual)

Time to put it to use! What if I let go of the existing dream, and envision something entirely new and, to the extent, greater than the previous. Will it in anyway influence the cosmological presence of this dream, its existence in time? Can the fabric of timeless desires be bent? Will the setting free of this dream deny it of the existent evasiveness? Do you not easily find that what is not sought?

End 2 (Poetic, Philosophical)

All said and done, I am no longer content in being a soldier of heaven. These humanly streets amaze me to the level of an exceptional sadness. Let the devil be one with my being, let him take me over. This is not surrender. But I will not be resting on the pedestal of agony any longer. I do not wish to fight anymore. End this war, even if the battlefield has to be washed in my blood. Tear my body to pieces. Turn my love and hate to petty incidents of fading intensity. But leave my soul in peace! Let its essence rest in a place of no religion, of no further ascension.