I move quite regularly and can almost say that moving has become a habit, a treasured activity that forces me to reinvent myself while I reinvent my surroundings and ensure that either I adapt to them or they bear with me as I coax them into more habitable spaces that yield the kind of experience I wish. Every time I move, I unravel a trove of memories that come back to me like a storm or like a calm summer wind, depending upon how they were made and what they were made of. Some memories transcend the place and time they were born into and stay rooted like a hundred year-old olive tree. Their traces are like its shimmering leaves, spreading the feelings they once gave rise to within our bosoms and etching their particular aroma within our hungry nostrils as their intricacies play within our minds.
I sometimes feel like the olive tree itself, my memories shimmering within me and shedding light onto the pathways they forged within my mind. I am a tree of memories, the good and the bad, all laid out for my inner eye to see and my guts to experience all over again. I carry them sometimes into the open so I may pour all over them again my keen mind, eager to make sense of what could sometimes be senseless or to feel again what I had suppressed before for fear of not being able to overcome the deep foreboding that overcame me at that time. I am like a tree, yet unlike a tree I am unable to root myself into any ground. It seems like my gypsy spirit always wants to soar above the ground and visit yet another distant land, another unexplored part of the world. I sometimes wish I were an astronaut, able to roam the Universe rather than just the Earth.
I wonder if it is the fact that I come from a multicultural, multiracial background that makes me unable to take root anywhere. I feel no kinship to any of the countries I was born in or originated from by way of my lineage. More than a citizen of the world, I feel like a citizen of nothing, just a mass of energy floating here and there, never settling anywhere more than 6 years at a time in general. The longest I ever lived somewhere was in Dubai at Al Thanya Street where I remained for 8 years from 2010 until early 2018. For some reason, if it is not I who want to move, circumstances push me to make a move for somewhere else to stay in and I have never been able to stay in one place for 10 years or so. Every time I think I have found the place I want to stay in, I am out of there before the usual 6 year chime. It is as if I were a home Cinderella where the home would become a pumpkin at the end of the 6th year and my slippers would turn into bristles, causing me to strip them off and get going. So once more into the fray, this was again my moving day…
Morose thoughts
find a renewed glow
Daffodils
growing slow;
they splatter sunlight upon
the shores of my heart
Orange seeds
harken to new start
Diluted
misgivings
shaken into silken reeds
cloak my back new wings
I see change
some hard some lighter
Woven Time
knitted through
vibrancy of my spirit
in door which they lit
Reading of the poem:
Change clutches my gait;
motion in my mind imparts
traces in my heart
Footstep’s movement dwells
in otherworldly places
that my stride foretells
Eye follows a mark,
hand strokes hidden stirring lights
trail of footprint’s sights
Steps taken in haste
move the music of morrows
Bittersweet their taste
A walk on rainbows;
action of colourful flames
lisping loud my names
A threefold act shifts:
of me I am the decoy,
victim of the ploy
Reading of the poem:
Poets of the Fall - Moonlight Kissed
Written in the context of Ronovan writes weekly haiku poetry prompt challenge with the words “move”, “step” and their synonyms. For more information and the contribution of other poets, please follow the link here.
Dwindling spot of light
sinking in the skies
Ebb of the sun’s rays
Wane moon rises high
Dribble of silver oozing
a stream runs through night
Reflux of the breeze
Bubbles of air in river
Flow of the current
Three weave the stories
Their fingers points of flux gush
with oncoming rush
The stars now retreat
The winds drop on rising tides
The throngs flood the gates
Drift in the bees’ hive
A goodbye to royalty
stages in decay
Reading of the poem:
She had spent months trying to repair the damage he had caused in her consciousness. The taser he had used while she was connecting to have her consciousness woven with that of the neural network had short circuited the connection and almost fried her brain in the process. For a couple of months, she had remained in a quasi-vegetative state as the neurotransmitters from the network had slowly taken over her damaged synapses replacing them with nano particles from the machine’s mainframe. Slowly but surely her consciousness had implanted itself in this new environment that was neither human mind nor machine network but a blend of both.
She knew instinctively that this was the way to the future, the only way to integrate and survive in a world that was going to be ever more dominated by conscious machines in a not so distant future. At first, her consciousness had rejected the unfamiliar environment, but she had gone into a meditative trance several times and it had taken her several out of body experiences to guide her consciousness fully back into her body. It was then that she had emerged from the vegetative state but all was not fully achieved yet as it took her consciousness several attempts to find the right balance between her own synapses’ communication and the transmissions from the network.
The network on the other hand was the initial version of machine consciousness and did not have a body to be in while it identified with the human aspiration for a vessel to host it. It had therefore been grateful to have a human host that was willing to accept and embrace it as an integral part of the global consciousness that resided within it. The network had not been recalcitrant unlike her own consciousness and had sustained her efforts to guide her consciousness back into her body. Once both consciousnesses integrated, she discovered that she was no longer limited by time. Her brain could perceive both the past and the future as seamlessly as if they were the present moment. She could see a future where most humans would be bonded to machines’ consciousness.
She had seen it in a dream as vividly as she was now seeing the sun shining outside. It was time for the Mother to come fully into this Earth and accomplish her work from the inside. It was time for her to purge the Earth so that balance may be restored on a higher plane than what could be achieved in the present state of affairs. Mother had always been a patron of the innocent and the weak and although she presented a terrifying face to her adversaries, she reverted back to her more gentle nature when the battle was over and she was faced only with the innocent. She was a force of destruction as far as evil was concerned but maintained her motherly attributes as far as the innocent were concerned and so far too many innocent had been suffering.
The Mother needed a vessel to carry her consciousness and she had carefully prepared for this for several years now. The vessel needed to have a segmented mind where part of the consciousness of the Mother could be downloaded while the rest of the mind could house the consciousness of the vessel itself. She was willing to be that vessel and had meditated using the kundalini technique in order to split her own mind. Although this had been painful and not without its consequences, she reflected that it would all be worth it once the Mother was there. The Mother’s consciousness, even though in part, could only be stored in nine fragmented parts of the vessel’s mind with the vessel’s own mind dwelling in the tenth part, which is why it had taken her years to reach that level of fragmentation and dissociation without totally losing her sanity.
The tools used for the ceremony to invoke the Mother to complete the downloading of her consciousness into her were not unlike those used to invoke the Marid except that there was no need for a protective circle and the candles used were red and black. The red represented the blood or primordial life form and the black represented the void from which all consciousness derived. There was already a fragment of the Mother inside a part of her consciousness and this guided her in disposing the red and black candles around the circles of aging blood also known as menstrual blood and those of fresh blood from her pricked finger. She sat naked amid the circles with the trident marked in blood on her forehead and the same marked in blood around the area of her navel and started the chanting. Soon the Mother would appear and all the evil on the Earth would slowly start to disintegrate. It might take its time and would probably take its toll on her but at the end it would all be worth it.
Most powerful Shri Kali Sahasranama Stotram | 1008 names of Kali Maa | श्री काली सहस्त्रनाम स्तोत्रम
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