Monday, June 11, 2012

THE VAMPIRE KNOWN AS PAPA WAXES PHILOSOPHICAL

the scientists have it all wrong. the big bang did not create matter, it created space. before that instant movement and vibration was impossible. every bit of substance pressed up against it's neighbor with an inconceivable force. chemical reaction could not occur. heat (the child of friction) was yet to be born. and the vast, universal cotillion had yet to take the floor. all was still. all was dark. all was quiet..... like corpses in a cold, deep  irish bog.


and then it happened. god (or perhaps an agent of the lord) said - let there be space. and there was space. every infinite unique particle was alone, separated from its brethren for the first time and desperate to regain the security of oneness. 


then energy seeped out of the void, kissing every tiny thing and tickling till they 'laughed.' but they failed to find their old lattice-mates and instead rubbed up against new partners. marriages happened and 'children' were born.


and all the while the space between these material congregations grew and grew, like bubbles in a great wheel of cheese. til the cheese became as strings and the strings pulled 'part to form nodes. 


like fireworks on a hot summer night. the sulfurous material was always there, packed into the vessel and waiting for the spark.


a vast celestial explosion... that's what we are. myriads of jewel-like sparks streaking out into oblivion, as the JADE EMPEROR smiles, claps and cheers.


could that be reality?


well, how could it not?


please indulge a 28,000 year old personage. papa has been many places and he has seen many things. lo, the storied pavilions of old cathay hide secrets. I see them when I slumber...dragon hunts among the clouds, where mountains touch the sky. automatons of blood and glass who smile as they kill. ah, the thrill of five hundred lifetimes.... a library of wonders. and my soul contains them all.


that is why I pull back. let others savor drama, for I have already done so and the plays grow old and stale.


so I dance through my charades. I tickle maidens in the dark and sometimes drain them dry....... do I cry after?.......occasionally.


but have you seen my Annie? I am so, so proud of her. a tadpole meant for greatness. not like Tomas, or the rest. this daughter of the darkness is the one I love the best...


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this is but one of more than 680 postings, strung together like pearls upon a silken thread. please hit the SHARE BUTTON. send our story sailing far and wide. the vampires, real vampires, have been hidden far too long. and regale us with your COMMENTS, or a history, or a song.


<><><><><><><> VAMPIRISMO <><><><><><><>

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