Stream of Consciousness – Flow
It is noteworthy that each of the steps and actions described in text following was actually executed. The reader should clear his mind and imagine herself as me. I have attempted, through stream of consciousness, to show you the shallow depths of my mind’s wanderings. It was a wonderful cleansing process for me, and hopefully it will be an exploration in the “human mystery” for you. Armed with only a pencil and Aunt Sue’s lime green journal, I embarked. Tell me if you like it, how you felt, and how I did.
The Lord bless you and keep you –
Justin
Edit: Marcus suggested that appropriate music might help to supplement the reading. A good example would be the “Divinity Theme” from Elizabeth: The Golden Age or another minimalist, classical piece – preferably in minor. When finding appropriate music (which I consider an imperative when reading anything, from poetry to a novel), it is important to consider the content of the text. What follows is both melancholy and pleasant, as is typical of the human mind. Above all, however, it is at peace.
I leave the screen – blue and bright – like a sun, a star, a mirror; I go to the closet beset by my fear of unearthing my lavish desires; I put on the robe, cotton absorbing my discomfort and cold, and embark on a journey to cleanse my soul; trial by fire – fire by moonlight; I speak, I open, I go. It is done.
I open the door, am besieged by the cold night, allowing the stagnant air to purge all my preoccupations and psychological nonsense away; bathed in the light of storm-like electricity, I contemplate – I meditate – I let go; I sit; I look up at the heavens – at Heaven; I then write, unable to see the markings below the shadow of my hand – blindly moving the graphite over the page; the night is so clear – my God is so near; I lie down; it is as if...
He is winking at me – the twinkling stars happily telling me things are alright, my concerns are okay, life is not always bliss; it is at moments like this that I miss her, but Which? – I do not know; but I once saw a night as identical to this as an eye – cloudless – and with it unearthed and removed the clouds of my soul; it is on nights like this that I long for adoration and Shakespeare and Austen and my darling “Elizabeth” – the bliss of a kiss: perfected, Dionysian song; but those days are gone – my poetry, farce; am I to remain a dim proselytizer? – a Virgin King loved only by his Virgin Queen?; and let the stars twinkle still, like swords to mine eye; “windows to souls” I once said; all no more... but the stars are still there and still full aware of this Virgin Monarch – a philosophic parade, who lives and breathes for works all Divine – searching for his soul which he just cannot find; but the stars just keep twinkling and He keeps winking back at me; I rest, I enjoy, I Thank, I sigh, I go. It is done.
