and I think to myself- what a wonderful world.

The will of the living and non-living things are exchanging properties. Anthropomorphic shells swarm blinking with headlight insect eyes through the superhighway veins of a concrete beast whose whirring wheels hum into a rumble subtlely blending with the sound on the ground of cadydids and grasshoppers in the distance. The insectoid hum rises to a peak and falls as another steel shell rumble tumbles down the perspective point of the highway, passing a streetlight just as it switches on...

As the sun sets, sky shifts into shades of phosphorescence and violet clouds upon a spectral sky. Through the air intensified by the fuming lungs and oil black blood of a concrete beast digesting the ancient reptilian fossil energies which power the shells. Sunsets and rises, falls and born anew, stop and go, fast and slow, red and green, gas and caffeine, shells in the veins flowing towards some point unseen. Seen across vast vistas of space-time, swarming locusts of language. Within steel shells are the people, each a crest of this wave sweeping over the sphere.

Enveloped in a film of plastic, plastic food, plastic words, shiny bubble-wrapped pop songs, plastic images reflected in a infinite hall of lens which hollows and drives them as they imagine they drive their shells to and fro upon the rumble tumble of the highway. Small spatterings of roadkill lives lay bloody and littered beneath the wheels of insectoid abstraction. A distant buzzing hum briefly floats by her ear as she turns the dial on the radio, which falls upon vague static. Turning through the noise came a signal.


"..These, my brothers and sisters, are the end times, when the oceans of the world shall turn to blood.."


"Fucking parasites", she said as she looked down to change the dial on the radio. Static.


"You promised to love me to the end of the world.. And I built a world just for two;. Now I'm alone at the end of the world, What good am I without you?" Static.


"and meanwhile as israel continues it's settlements on the west bank...." Static.


".. A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies. Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline...... It's the end of the world as we know it..." Static.


"..I see trees of green, red roses too,.. I watch them bloom, for me and you. And I think to myself..."


She passed under a street light and it's glow flickered out..


"What a wonderful world."


In that moment most abruptly a buzzing hum flies into her ear, resonating her spiral cochlea.
"AHH FUCK." 


She screams franticly as she hits her ear trying to get whatever had flown in to come out.


"Fuck!FUCK!Fuck!"


A moment of sense finally flows back into her she remembers the road, looking up directly into the headlights of the oncoming traffic. She experiences none of the level of seizing fear that she just had when the fly went into her ear. She could only momentarily think to herself how much headlights look like eyes on a huge beast charging in her direction. And then a calm enveloping darkness, as she saw the accident from the outside of her body in slow motion, steel against steel, showering glass, and blood on the asphalt..


"and I think to myself..."


As the last sliver of light from the sun disappeared from the horizon, an broken streetlight flickered and buzzed back into functionality. A fly rose up from the turning wheel of the accident into the night sky, drawn towards the glow of the mysterious light. All enveloping light.  A wheel is turning. 


"What a wonderful... world."


And then Darkness, 


and then red, and then beeping, noises, beeping, voices, beeping, buzzing, buzzing..


No longer does she find herself at the scene of her peril, watching the wreckage of entangled steel but rather engulfed in a ocean of the most familiar sense of calm she had ever known, like if one had finally managed to hold onto the feeling of deja-vu.


Warmth. Swooshes of liquid within the spiral cochlea of the ear. Enveloped with a warmth shaded pink and red within a sphere of silent completion.  


We were always here. We never left this silence.. and.. the swooshing swirling movement contracts feels like we are being trapped. The sphere is imploding and a darkness frantically fills her. This time shall end. 


In a hospital room, a woman lies covered in bandages, hooked up to a respirator to sustain her existence. Silence except for a steady beep, pulsating until the equillibrium finally gives way to catastrophe, death.

Out of a moment of labored silence in a hospital room, a baby cries it's first wail. If percieved from outside of four-dimensional space-time, death and birth are two aspects of a whole.  The infinity of the multiverse into a singularity of becoming. Free will is an illusion. Determinism is an illusion. You chose this, the moment of your death, so you could remember. An illusion created by the restriction of consciousness into the in divide dual. There is only awareness passing through the multitude of manifest forms in order to percieve all aspects of becoming. There is only one being reincarnating like similar whirlpools within the larger ocean of awareness from which we arise and which we return.. but for now- this is not the experience. That experience is wholly other, or Holy Other. For now, It is death come to take life. It is the ultimate duality. It is a wall but if we could see the other side....