Tincture of Spines

 by  Shaun Lawton  

   The quantum evolution of an idea becomes expressed through pixels in fractals of geography reflecting a process analogous to crystallization, except several orders of magnitude below capacity to formalize; in other words, creating at best an effect not unlike the aurora borealis, which is to say a shimmering conglomeration of spectral lights variegating across our own natural rainbow of colors, along with several other harmonic orders of hues refracted from some other unfathomable domain. A mesmerizing mixture of intermingling pigmentation. 

    

    What begins transmuted through the magnetic spectrum of light ultimately leads to the process of crystallization that we have long taken for granted as a beautiful agglomeration, one we love to cut and polish and trade among each other in admiration. These crystals aren't solids at all, but rather light itself caught up at a much slower frequency and vibration. They are nothing less than water's missing link. Together they combine forces to bring about the kaleidoscopic multiverse. Here is the clarified triumvirate which incites flesh and blood to spring into being. 

   A tincture of spines seen through microgravitational lensing, revealing scenery as seen through fables of crystal spheres and palantirs, balanced against a lidless eye in the sky opened wide for all to find, except for the fact that one by one, each one of us in creation remains the one to be found, by the hunter himself known as the possessor of the eye, a primary predator on the primal side. It's the progenitor of all relentless cycles. The author of the auspicious debut. The intrinsic encrypter of codified behavior. 

   And we are the recipients of an eternal code. The messengers carrying the signal. The vessels containing the spiraling cryptogram sent as a cypher from the far end of forever to the nearest available sanctums of truth, to whatever stray receptacles are willing to take the vital information planted within the seed to be distributed throughout the universe. The memetic language of the tongue passing along the orations of the dead from one living generation to the next, a procession of memories handed over in ritualistic solemnity marking the passage of the elders into dust. 

   We are next in line to become the elders of our time. The oldest souls among us remain the youngest in heart and deed, while the newly indoctrinated grow old quick. For all we know, we're saving it up until it turns to dust overnight. With one final lowering crescent blade of the moon in dissolution against the grainy dark rocks along the sea shore. The stars shimmering with their constellations bisected at our feet. We stand in mute deliverance before a late night barren street. 

    Alert eyes wide open awake and walking out under our star, we are all here together on this wandering planet on its course through the universe in time, a carriage to us all on our way forth  toward undertaking the advancement of our very own kind.  May the forces of mercy and strength in our hearts overcome the possession of cruelty and dominion throwing taller shadows upon the land. 

    Approaching a blood red sunset of shadows cast upon a mountain range of towering pinnacles. Thrusting our silhouettes leaning against what's left of the sunlight filtering through like fingers grasping for one last hold on the day.  A day that is slipping away forever, just like all of the days before it and all of the days to come. A tincture of spines we've been given the time to work for us one by one.