To the Last Strong Man of Babylon: An Ode to Transcendence

A river in the sky moved overhead and washed me out. Literally. We had 9 inches here in Topanga. Had intense dreams last night. 

Driving in the rain and the storm trying to get to solid bedrock. I can’t be consumed by the storm and become the river. It will wash me away. It rages. I need to anchor before it gets me. I’m looking for trees to be an anchor. I’m trying hard to be grounded. Everyone calls me an oak. I sit in ceremonial circles of people channeling the spirits and language of the ancestors. But me, I sit and hold the ground. Hard. And the comments everyone makes, they say I’m a strong man. I take it as a compliment. But what they’re saying as they transform to the ancient rain dancers and become vapor clouds is that I’m stuck in the earth. Fixed in this wooden case. Unable to become the flow of the river, which is the point. As the storm approaches and grows they transcend into the clouds and flow like the rain. Intimate and connected together. I think they’re nuts. 

The storm is coming and we’re all going to be washed away and they don’t get it. They’ll all be sorry. 

Me, I’m searching for Maslow, chopping wood, anxious to build a solid shelter. Make a fire, kill a beast and stay calm even when the clouds become ominous, I will survive. They will appreciate me when they get passed their silliness and come to my warmth. 

The wind blows and the dancers evaporate. I’m alone and lost. The last “strong” man in Babylon. Struggling instead of being water.

To my love:

My Love, My Sweet, My Magnificent Powerful Oak, My Last Man of Babylon, 

I find myself reading and re-reading the words from this morning’s writings, immersed in witness of YOUR snowflake experience, wrestled by your solid and capable hands onto the tyranny of the white page. 

My drive for doing this is layered…

In a purely SUPERFICIAL way, I am overwhelmed by the allegory you have woven, your ability to story-tell in the ways that fables become so, and your general artistry channeled this morning into poetic prose. Your penmanship surrenders the exquisite. I ingested and store each syllable in my codes in pure hedonist glory and soul pleasure. 

In the way of the LOVER, I am so in awe of the brilliance and magnitude of your light, which today reveals unencumbered and unshackled. As I stand protected (and unclenched) in your impermeable shade, I glimpse your life’s journey from behind your calloused bark. Ground level up, it is as though I am witnessing the slow unfurling of your heavenly angelic wings. Halos emit wonder through newly formed cracks. Lover, you cause me to believe in the God particle – and, that we are all instantiations of Source. Your undeniable power, equally exquisite and delicate, radiates perfection. 

In the way of the SOLITARY, the movements that animate my soul fall utterly silent. This pause serves to absolve me of my hologram, thereby drowning the cacophony of self to consume YOU in the purest form of your being - unbroken, untarnished. Listening for the full integrity of your original atom in the ever-present information web, and therefore free of any consequential alloy or molecule. All this to hear your INIMITABLE musical note, separate from the orchestra of life. I crave your fullest glory, knowing the result is to marvel in humility. 

In the way of WOMAN, I hunger for your polar rage, and for your contrasted love; And, for the full spectrum in between. My brain rewires daily as each fluid bond fortifies the bridges to your deepest. I am so ready to receive every facet of you, all of you. As your source energy flows through me with each extension of liquid - from saliva to cum -, the oak’s sap delivers nutrients to its green leaves with lobbed edges. I feel my fruit ripen in the evergreen with your every intentional breath. 

In the way of COMPANION, watching your journey my sweet Oak proves to be my everything. Inspired beyond measure, excited beyond possible, and devoted in perception. Your bystander and well-wisher – I offer you my hand in the face nature’s worst: from ravages and floods, to avalanches, tornados, and droughts, to hurricanes, cyclones, and typhoons. In the face of untold disasters yet to reveal to the comfort of earthquakes that made life on this planet possible. To all of it, blizzards and wildfires. Perhaps most assuredly, to the photons of lightning storms that forged this universe and us, beings of light. 

In the way of UNION, my body and my sex are so tuned into you. Solitary as we are, entanglement now the raison d’etre. My body restructures for you, shifting from abstract to tangible. I am so ready to transmute your energy through my heart to become the entity of love. Love devoid of any fear, authorizing an “us” that is distinguishably united. Love of the kind that births the artwork masterpieces of the tree of life, connecting us from dust to dust. 

In the way of TWIN FLAME, my body pulses with life. Form-level archetypes within us shift and sway to influence natural and energetic realms. Deliberate measures enslave emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical planes. Radiation is purified. Our DNA profoundly restructures across adaptations, aligning with eons of curiosity and experimentation. In this sacred space of no wrong, only right. BioGeometry signatures profess to supervene and reshape at the provocation of this union, cognoscente of Patience & Trust. Profundity now the enabling technology.  I speak of the very same union that is most unlikely, and most destined. The choiceless choice. The resounding "fuck yes."

In the way of the sublime and the MUNDANE, I love you.