Shining threads

Shining threads

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

A theology of smoke

Heaven and hell are relative and changing.

Some people's heavens are others hells.

Some like easy-pickings, others the hard sell.

God is heavenothingness.

The One is a smoke-ring,
absent-mindedly blown from human lips,
illuminated for a moment
by lamplight,
meaning nothing
yet we are emtranced by its transinent completeness,
before it dissipates into the air of the room.

Architecture and design are all we are left with
and the hard back of the chair against our backs.

Turning back to the feast from which he came,
the fellow exclaims 'And yet, and yet, there is all this!'

Drunk on the senses - awash with synaptic bursts
fusing language with sensation -
the existential fireworks of enlightened enjoyment
fizz like sparkles held by a gleeful child,
only to burn to the end,
suddenly extinguished
& the disappointing stick is all that is left.

Onwards to the next game, the next adventure.

More. More. Endless bliss.

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