Wednesday, May 7, 2014

A MOMENT OF BEING

The encircled red fruit looks delicious. Adam says it is an apple. The quest for knowledge brought me here. I came into being through negation. I was a tabula rasa who was brought into being through the rib. Is that where my putative soul reposed, from whence it was wrenched and made to become. I am destined to be the helpmate, the subordinate other. My being is contingent upon his being. Yet the version that actualizes me leaves essentials unexplored. My parthenogenesis leaves unanswered the constituents of the void that made me materialize because to trace my anteriority means reclaiming the void that has created me . What i remember of existence is the salty tang of the womb where i swam, inhaling the saline warmth , letting it suffuse my nostrils and through the mediation of the forces of simultaneal annihilation and creation, irradiate my amorphous filaments of perception. I lay coiled like a foetus, like the serpent coiled in around itelf, its tail and mouth intersecting. In a sense i feel closer to the serpent than to adam because the serpent owes its existence to the nebulous world of the fortuitous and the erasure,with no grand design except to function as an antithesis, a diametrical opposite to the probity of the ostensible good.

Hearing the serpents expostulations on the subterranean charms of the apple is like hearing my unconscious voice telling me to break free. Cogitations, reposing underneath, like indecipherable hieroglyphs are assuming a tangible shape, assuming a form and that form is the formlessness of pre history. The more unformulated my being becomes the more irresistible original sin becomes. I could either retract and avoid this catastrophe or take a plunge and plummet into the nothingness that has been constitutive of what i am.

The serpent's voice is cloying, sticky, like cotton soaked in honey. It rasps deliciously around my spine, abrading me, making me purr with unconcealed delight. It betokens knowledge. Yet what, ultimately is the charm of this knowledge. Is it that ultimate reality will be unearthed or will the irreality underlying phenomena emerge. Will the knowledge of indeterminacy sheathe me in the blamelessness and sinlessness of my act or will it unleash on me the wrath of those whose grand narratives epistemology obliterates all remnants of any telos i might have conceptualized for myself. Fruitless speculations and the destiny of my lot, foreclosed yet propulsively transgressive, etches its own indelible moments of being through this moment in time.

I open my mouth, take a bite and the sharpness of my teeth leave serrated indentations on the apple. The cosmos awaits, destiny explodes.

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