An Awakening

The dark cavern has no light. The dark cavern is a house without windows, where suns and stars and moons are dead, never even born. Marigolds would blind you. A topaz would petrify your soul. The golden hall of the maker would birth new life. Such depth is hidden in the dark and dismal cavern, where there is no light. No light. No life. It is the moment before time resumes, before the coming of what is bright, and the dying of night.

   What is that sound? Loud, buzzing, recognisable. I jolt, as if electrified. The spell is broken. I am no longer enchanted, no longer trapped in the night garden. No, my soul and my body unite, triggered by the buzz, they merge, and I awaken. The sound is a wordless summons only I hear. Instinctively, I accept this; it is a condition I have created. 

   But why?

   The thought is a sledgehammer [cue music], a red serpent from Mars, Ah Puch reborn. Have I chosen my fate? Do I steer this four-limbed vessel wherefrom I observe the world? I hear the buzzing sound, I smell the aura of my square, I see the white wall above, I feel the soft-but-stiff block underneath me, and I taste nothing. Sensory illusions in a temporal riddle. False freedom; a comforting lie. That is the truth. Nothing matters, so everything matters. The paradox of life.

   It does not make sense.

   It does not. 

   The willow, despite its awfully deceptive name, has no will. Its roots burrow into soil and rock and bind it to planet Earth. Like the willow, we are bound, to a physical organism that exploits all other organisms that construct the organism we call Gaia. All her love she gives, all her love we take. Meanwhile, we are trapped in the continuous present, where the only truth is human thought. Our minds wander in the temporal realm, clinging to the past, predicting the future. 

   I still hear the buzzing noise. A mere second has passed. I have awakened. The cavern has dissolved and I enter the light, bright and blinding and terrifying.