Mil Espejos

Mil espejos revelan una verdad

bajo la mirada de un ojo incierto.

¿Son tus pestañas las que crecen en las grietas?

¿O son los pelos de tu lengua que murmuran en chasquidos?

Los sapos y las culebras son ya huesos resecos

en cuya médula vacía yacen enterrados

los recuerdos de tu felicidad.

(fueron a encontrarse con la mía)

.

.

.

Una vez te pensé infinita.

Hoy, aprendo a convivir con la variable irresoluble de tu recuerdo.

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Three Moments

Plentiful in metaphors

I drag myself into your sleep

unable to disguise my naked heart

.

A face in the crowd turns around

and watches itself go

.

.

Time moves on

but I don’t

.

.

.

(I stop becoming)

Registry of Contrarian Occurrences, Final Entry

Type of entity: manuscript. Probably drug induced or acquired through other equally contrarian means. Possibilities might include: undue consorting with chaos entities, unauthorized communion with the absent dead or perhaps self inflicted temporal transposition. Note: how a lowly entity such as this might have acquired the means or the knowledge to access such complex processes remains unknown. This must be further investigated.

Censorship status: Absolute. The goal of this Inquisitor will be the location and utter destruction of any extant copies of this document, including those found in memories, dreams and reflections. In order to achieve this, the complete observation of the 9th Decree is advised: those in contact with the contrarian text must be hunted down and executed on sight without hesitation. Doubt is the seed of change. Change is the bed of chaos. Note: to ensure the preservation of the sacred enunciations, this Inquisitor shall enforces the decree to its absolute expression. Entities suspected of at least Third-degree contact with the heretic, including indirect contiguity and unaware coexistence, shall be terminated and their souls expunged from the cycle. This Inquisitor shall expunge itself from the cycle once the task is completed and the contrarian threat has been completely suffocated.

Contrarian categorization: Irredeemeably Contrarian. The mere existence of this entity in any of its manifestations presents a direct threat to the cycle. The integrity of the Faith might already be compromised.

Reccomended Course of Action: no expense or consideration must stand in the way of anything less than the total extintion of the contrarian entity. If possible, a reality revision should be carried out to prevent the entity, and thereby any products or outcomes derived from its existence, from ever taking place. Although this may cause a false loop paradox, the possibility should at least still be regarded as plaussible. Should the contrarian infection become too widespread to contain, or should its occurrence happen to posses an immovable ontological status, a complete eschaton of the current iteration is reccommended. The Faith shall prevail.

Final considerations: Although the soul of this Inquisitor is of no value or consequence, the Principle of Irreduction dictates that the expunged soul of this Inquisitor should still be considered elligible for resuscitation or at the very least recorporeation to better serve the interests of the Faith.

Textual representation of the contrarian occcurrence:

“I am.”

Reflection I

Becoming suddenly aware of the futility behind every human effort can have curious if somewhat contradictory effects on the mind of a person and, by extension, on the way a life is lived. I often find myself thinking about the relative worth of my actions and my words, especially when it comes to writing. The notion of “worth”, as everything and anything else for which a human language has a word or symbol, is generated by the connections that give it birth. Although there might be some consensus about what something be, meaning, and therefore our perceived reality (the human one), is found at the crossroads of language and intent. A stone is a stone, hunger is hunger, and the wind is, well, the wind, but any action or interaction, any response or reaction prompted by these words, these meanings, are set in motion by the human intent. Throwing a stone at someone to hurt them is no different than trying to make that same stone, or any other stone, bounce along the uninterrupted surface of a lake. The cause and the result might look different, and they will definitely feel so to the ones having their skulls cracked by the impact, but even though these actions may seem totally unrelated to, say, a mother protecting her child from her own father or a kid begging for food, a single, undeniable and irreducible fact remains: all of them suffer from the human intent.

            All of our meanings are inner meanings. So is worth. So am I. So is everything else. Why, then, do I keep weighing my actions against themselves? Why, then, do I allow my words to be shaped by imagined inner meanings the nature of which will always remain out of reach?

            As of late, I have begun to comprehend one thing. It is not the relative worth that ladens my actions. It is not the fear that my intent may be judged undeserving of attention or praise or any other manufactured human meaning. It is certainty that has pinned me down. It is clear, unadultered understanding that blurs my vision and shackles my thoughts. Distilled knowledge, paradoxically free of purpose and intention.

                                                            There is nothing outside.

                                                            There is nothing inside.

                                                            Only in between can we find meaning

                                                            And there is nothing in between.