I was just
sitting, gazing at the never-ending input received by my neurons, which painted
vivid images of beautiful illusions. On my comfortable bench, breathing the
fresh spring air with the emerging scents of different new-born flowers, lay a
body maneuvered by invisible strings that only exist outside of space and time.
My body. The delicate fingers of a soul pulled my hand to my mouth and allowed
me to take a puff of my rolled cigarette. The strings were connected to each
pore of my skin. Each breath I took was a gift of God. Each time I took a
breath, another would exhale his last, passing on part of their energy to the
big soul that was pulling the strings of all the souls pulling human strings.
In return, he would allow my soul to transmit another breath to me. The cycle
of the universe was based on destruction and creation. But outside space and
time, there was only multiplication. At our space-time stage, you only learn
the basics – addition and subtraction. Up there, you’re taught the
multiplication table of existence. Infinity is ever-expanding. Only God can
count by how much. In our world, you have a set amount of energy. Ask
Lavoisier. And because of this limitation, we have to make choices.
The universe
is shedding martyr blood. The Tree of Life seeps it.
Today, we
made pipelines to make this transfer more efficient. Our collective
consciousness has amnesia. All the ancient cultures’ general knowledge is known
today only by an incredibly small percentage of the world’s population. The big
giant called the West is dressed nice, has a perfect body, but is mentally and
spiritually challenged. He’s stronger than everyone else in the playground and
rips apart everyone else’s drawings, kicks all the balls over the fence and
steals everyone’s lunch money.
The geeks are too anti-social to gather and fight back against him.
I sneeze and
wake from my daydream. Am I becoming allergic to this illusion?
