At birth we are projected from a bang, like particles in the universe, forever falling, disconnected from each other but connected to the origin, initially moving parallel on strings of energy. Yet there comes a time when the gravity of forms takes hold, when we are separated from those we were born with, tied to galaxies of institutions, like the community or the church. Still we appear to move parallel with our atomic siblings, bound by some mystical force that keeps us together, the strings vibrating by quantum proximity, to create other gravity pools inside those galaxies. The family becomes a star cluster, the team of constellation, connected by alignment with the astral magnetron. Still we fall, parallel to those we grew with and loved the fondest, so that others who don't resonate a strongly slowly depart from our trajectory, to be picked up by some other form, some other world on the map of space-time. Sometimes we miss that proximity, the magnetic nostalgia, when once we vibrated with a special soul sent elsewhere by the cosmos. If we look in their direction, we can still see their light, distorted by space-time no doubt, but reminiscent of the journey that led to separation. Light, light, all around us is light, memories ejected on a canvas transparent, history written by the energy of relationships, stories slowly expiring by the ratio of distance. What is usually lost can only be accessible by the invisible strings that connect us all.
The power of soul collapses the waveform into a particulate being, a witness to the divine creation, something that is able to perceive the grand design better than the universe can. That is the purpose of our separation from each other, that the illusion of separation disintegrates unity into trillions of shards of illuminated spirit, all bearing witness to the design in their own form, allowing an infinite variety of perceptions to experience that which cannot be perceived by the individual alone, so that all our light-strings together form an integral of universality. Together we are strong, separate we are weak; that is why when we work together we forget being separated, at least momentarily, remembering what it felt like to be whole in spirit and light, falling parallel to others in unison, as if gravity were a stadium and the spectators were all striving for the same thing, marked by the same experience for all eternity, as each quantum individual cements a space-form in the continuum of entanglement.
In the farthest of futures, after gravity has come full circle, and our wave-souls are stretched so thin that their amplitudes are imperceptible, only then perhaps will we finally diverge from our closest kin; the severance creating a rupture in the shape of space so powerful that will overcome the gravity we once shared, bending our strings to the point of breaking, at which point flashes of memory in the database of entanglement glitch and falter, finally becoming unhinged after trillions of years. The strongest memories will jostle for attention, like those we saw at each of our deaths, the most powerful surfacing upon a dissociated cognition, a vague imprint on the metaphysical remains. Only the memory of our birth, at the very beginning, will succeed these final moments, as the rate of quantum information was so infinite that it is the only inevitable thing we can experience at spiritual death.
The strongest memory is of her, the one I saw first when my eyes developed, on a shallow ocean pool. She was a sponge, possibly a rooted jellyfish, just as I was. In previous lives we had touched, sharing our pores and tentacles with tender grace, synchronizing our movements in the aquatic nursery. The water would tickle us, move us, whisper sweet signals, teaching us to share our nerves, lovingly, enhancing them to the point of movement, in turn enhancing our vision and perception of sound. I loved her, yes, even more after that first hidden eye appeared, to take in her beauty in that panorama of coral, embedded in a garden that filtered the light beyond so typically, our bodies entwined under the radiance that we could previously only perceive by temperature. And she saw me, yes, she could finally see me in that life or the next, and together we tangled through the eons, past the cataclysms and the age of reptiles, into full mammal-hood. As a human I once embraced her, high on a mountain top, in a life that was otherwise insignificant, breathing on her neck as the sun exfoliated the sky, the same way my hand would set fire to her horizon, where entropy disrobes the palaces of love. And on that mountain, she would hold me tender, telling me everywhere she wanted to go, me promising we would get there, one day, until the transformation, when the stars fully appeared and space became our playground, a map in the sky of infinite possibilities, projections of our future disillusioned by the past.
And that's when it hit me, that a time would come again, when the future and the past are inseparable, that when the soul-strings rupture at the end of the universe, gravity will recycle the holy elements- pi, phi, e., the matrix, the transform, the sacred geometry that completes the manifold - a reverse bang, a white hole of completion, the light inverted back toward the center, where all our strings will converge again, to begin the life of our creator anew. And I will see her again, despite all forgotten data, after the new universe is born, new strings are projected and the sun comes back. I will love her in that life too, each and every one, for as long as ancient time will permit, negotiating with the darkness that something cannot become nothing.
