‘Round Midnight (62. The Infinite Architecture)

Photo by Anderson Miranda from Pexels

I spent today with Akira. And her daughter. Shopping.

Akira’s daughter Nabuko is lovely, and genuinely loves the little time she spends with her mother. It’s spring break, so she is off from school. She lives at a boarding school and is nearly as perfect as her mother. Her grandmother clearly has brought her up well, with the same expectations as Akira.

They speak at least once every day.

That’s where I fail.

I’m not good on the phone. That’s typical of my family, but I’m the worst. Mom at least has an excuse. When she was young her family had a party line. That isn’t as fun as it sounds. The phone rings, you answer it, but it’s not for you. I guess the ring was supposed to be a clue, but Mom became terrified of answering.

Ophelia calls. I wait for Mom to phone me, usually once a month. When I get on the phone, I can’t wait to get off, while Mom is afraid to say goodbye, as if it might be the last time she speaks to me. She’s pushing 60 and is in excellent health.

I don’t visit enough either. I’m just a complete failure with family.

Dinner for one at Burger King. That’s so lame.

They call it a wintery mix. How can it be Spring break if it isn’t Spring yet? It doesn’t even feel like it. I wish I had driven into the center of town.

And of course, it’s not a work night, so I’ll be gallivanting tonight. I’m frozen to the core, so I’m taking a hot shower first. Then I’ll practice some piano before bed.

Or maybe not. You couldn’t even let me finish my shower first?

Don’t worry, your body will find its way to bed.

But the practicing.

Practice in the morning. Anyway, we were ready.

Ready for what?

To fly. I thought you wanted to fly like an eagle.

It’s just a song my father listened to.

Look around.

Stars, or to be more complete, I’m standing above the clouds, and there is an amazing starry sky above me. And a half moon. I’m flying. Hovering to be exact. Where am I?

About 100,000 ft straight up from your house.

Have you forgotten this thing I have about heights?

I thought it was a love/hate relationship.

I love to be on the ground, hate to be above it. I’m so far above the ground that it has ceased to be an issue. There’s no discernible gravity. My breasts are floating. And my wet hair. Shouldn’t the water be frozen?

Do you want it to be? Do you want to feel the cold?

I’ll pass on that. What are we doing up here?

You’ve floated in the void. You’ve floated in your universe, but here you need to get used to being above ground.

Why this high?

It’s so high that you won’t have a fear of falling to Earth.

That is Earth down there? And I’m still in the now?

Yes, but “now” is a fleeting term. Your body is now still in the shower, but we stand outside of time. Time moves while you are taking a break from it. That’s what a dream is. Isn’t it? Most last a millisecond of real time. They just seem like they exist in time.

So I’m dreaming?

You’re gallivanting.

I blink, and I’m floating above one of Uranus’ rings. The sun is little larger than the other stars. Why here?


This universe is vast and infinite. I am an infinitely small part of it.

Now I’m standing in the place with all of the globes. We are in Gaia’s multiverse. It, too, is infinite.

And likewise you are an infinitely small part of it.

We stand on my rough diamond planet facing the giant sun. The Source.

Why did you call it the Source?

I can’t call it The Truth. We are The Truth. And that Sun is part of my imagination.

An infinitely small part, yet it contains Gaia’s multiverse.

Inside that Sun? You mean metaphorically.

It has to be. It doesn’t exist without us imagining it.

It’s gone. We face each other in the void. Her hair is wet, too. What about the void? Is it infinitely large?


She’s being annoying. Infinitely large and infinitely small.

Let me guess. The void is inside me, and is both infinitely large and infinitely small. I am infinite. What is outside me?

I hesitate to use the word, but nothing, neither infinitely large nor small. Just that. Nothing.

We are everything? I thought the void was nothing.

The void contains nothing. Nothing and everything. I remind you to think of us as a concept, just like Gaia is a concept, manifested as both a Goddess and a spirit that takes the form of a living being in many of her creations. Like us, she is nothing and everything. She, too, is an “us.” In that way we are alike. We coexist, separate and one. We imagine, she creates. We cannot create without her. She cannot create without our imagination.

We stand just above the treetops in the rain. My acrophobia begins to itch, but not as much as I would expect. It is only a tiny distance from me to the ground, relatively speaking.

But if your body fell from this height, it would likely die. Life is fragile.

And the Truth?

I’m lying in bed. Apparently, my body didn’t bother to dry my hair very well. My pillow is damp, and my hair will be a rat’s nest in the morning.

The Truth remains.

Did I think that, or did she speak to me?

Photo by Robin Schreiner from Pexels

Planet Ezzie (30. The Ticking Clock)

Photo by Kate photo from Pexels

I swam in the middle my sea today. I wanted to see what it was like. It was still fresh water then, but now I see that I have made it a salt water ocean. I have personally provided the salt. You would have thought that my sweat would be insignificant in an ocean, but I’m not human. It started as a green-tinged soup and cleared as I swam. I watched it happen. The salt had a way of purifying it, killing certain organisms, fertilizing others. That must be what happened in my moon pool.

I almost said lunar there, but that refers to Earth’s crazy dead moon with a face on it. It’s interesting that there aren’t any craters here. It seems that this void is much cleaner. My dead moon is mostly solid rock. There is some erosion, small rocks and fissures, from the heat of the sun and lack of atmosphere.

Oh yes. I went there. I don’t need to breath, and I’m immune to solar radiation. I’m a spirit, remember?

I am NOT human. NOT, NOT, NOT. That realization brings with it a certain amount of sadness and perhaps a little anger. I liked being human, being fallible. Can I be wrong? I don’t know. There is no one to judge me here, perhaps anywhere. Mistakes aren’t the same as being wrong. I’m still new at this. I will forever be new at it.

It is raining somewhere.

On that fateful night when I lost my humanity. I brought the rain, the lightning, the thunder. I did it. I can do it again. I’m doing it now. It is raining outside, I think. Yes. It is. I just looked. I can tell these thoughts horrify Tommy. I don’t think in all his lives that he has ever seen me like this. He fears his vulnerability. He fears my fear. I could do something that destroys him. I could pop this orb that he lives in. Don’t doubt me Thomas. I won’t intentionally do something to hurt you. Of course, intentionally is the operative word.

I’m procrastinating.

I’m almost through my first week of being undead. I feel more alive than I ever have. I am the source of life itself. I have only another week before Beatrice returns to the orchestra. She’ll slowly destroy it, by enslaving all the men, and deluding all the women. It won’t stop with the orchestra. Then there will be the audience, and it will spread like a pandemic.

That’s why I’ve come back today. I need to find some weakness in her armor. She would notice if I tried to squeeze back into her … MY … body. The henna, it seems it was only a temporary fix, an impediment.

Intuition tells me that I must become me again: crazy Ezzie, obsessive, sex-obsessed, off the wall, accident-prone, accidental mystic. I can’t see how I can do that without my flawed body. Were the brown hair and eyes, flat chest, and the inability to ever gain weight a sort of flaw? My spirit-body in Orbville is a little fuller. It’s the perfect version of me. I’m not going to name it Orbville. I’ll leave that for its eventual inhabitants.

I’m different now.

I know too much. I’ve figured out too much about my role in the universe, or universes, actually. I know there are more than two. I’m sure I have made an endless number of mistakes, and each world edifies the next. One learns by making mistakes, and I’ve made many.

I’ve popped some of the previous orbs. Forgive me.

I’m the only one who can travel between orbs. Tommy and Thaddeus can’t follow me. They exist only in Earth’s universe. The orbs are inside of my consciousness. I dare not count them. I dare not visit. Do I exist in them? Maybe God is dead for them, or Goddess, or Gaia.

Do I exist within another being?

Beatrice is just another spirit, but not like me. She is a prisoner like the others. I created her. I could kill her, but not without consequences.

I could kill my body before she procreates. That is the last resort for fixing the situation.

If I allow her to procreate? Pop. That is the humane solution.

The clock is ticking.

Time passed

talk to me by Julia Skobeleva

Clouds pregnant with rain,
An omen for the new day.
Shadows of memory
On the cusp of lost love.

Love will end today
As it began, a shower
In spring then, now fall.

We fall, like those million droplets,
From great height to a bottomless chasm
Two as one become two again.

Again, the sun will shine
like summer, warm on my skin
in a new dawn forever
when the clouds part.

We grew apart. (Is that growth?)

Until that day, I’ll remember
The wind coursing through my soaked hair,
The hair he touched, he kissed,

When we loved.

It rained today

it rained today,
and I thought of you
I do everyday

lying in bed
watching the mosquitos
bouncing off the ceiling
thats me, unable to hold on,
hold you

the sun came out
and I thought of you
then the clouds returned

you are the light, my light
my centre of gravity
you follow me, following you
like a dog and its tail
silly, isn’t it

it was cold today
and I thought of your warmth
but you turned frosty

it was my fault that you left
there was no other way
if I let you in again
would you touch my desire,
or just stoke the flame?

it rained today
and I thought of you
never will I stop