But I’m never passive. Through befuddling pain I analyzed: In no Time or Space or Meaning could such acts — where I am the cause, perpetrator, violence, victim and repercussion – be my doing even though cursed. Responsibility lies with each human being. I set to revoke The Curse.

Revolting against this use of my substance I slid petition after petition through spiralling warm wind currents into Lord Indra’s Lowest Heaven. Without resting I encoded my protest on each spy satellite: Not in my name! I sent it out on deep space probes, I swirled noxious factory fume to spell: Not in my name! In reply I heard silence. This made eternity lonelier.

This went on eon after eon. I had raged so incessantly that my curly tresses changed to dreadlocks, my golden complexion changed to the shine of clotted blood, my diaphanous garments changed to shreds of trailing smoke, I thought I was more Apparition than Vision. Though vision is what I possess: Created to birth lyrics that harmonize the Three Worlds into One; through my presence to bring forth impossible dreams and sing of the everyday sacred. For I am that which rages with fires unquenchable, that beauty without rules, that flow irredeemable. I range beyond the horizons of dawn skies, and of eclipses; I could fill ocean depths with light were I but acknowledged. I could create love like glitter bombs that show the expanse of sky.




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