Atlas and the Original Blindness/Navigating the Surface

Down the rabbit hole, and further into the idea of the muse we go.

 

 


 

 

The speed at which,

Look out the window for Schrödinger’s cat and the heavens shift.

Lucky and naïve but these moments are what help us believe.

The blue radiation melds with the expanding spaces, the potential within each moment expands the floors even faster. The arrival of the original blindness lets me use only my heart to see.

No matter where my journey takes me bits of blue radiation will surround some points on the map. Trails of light, and campfires sit in places where we tried to understand the loss of sight.

The land spaces on the map were curved and rigid in many different places like the letters of the language I use. The poetry of the earth is written in lava and mud and eventually cooled into the lands we know of today. In cursive I loop my way through these lands curving each step to the tempo of my heart.

Sun rays comb different sides of the planet as the solar system tilts like a compass.

My own consciousness greatly resembling,

My own heart greatly resembling

The horizon’s eyelashes comb different sides of the planet as the solar system tilts like a compass.

Make sure to watch the time throughout our journeys many nights go by but when I’m with you it seems like the sky has only blinked twice.

I try to hold up my eyes after the heavens shift to watch the night sky. Atlas keeps the horizon’s eye open, letting us see through the sky’s lens. Atlas held up the sky just as I tried to hold up my eyes to let my imagination flow a little longer. The longer I tried to stay awake the more my imagination took over.  As I looked out to the sky’s lens that Atlas held open my dreams looked out the window of my eye from deep inside my heart.

I thought about the countless formations into which the chimes could be arranged and the countless formations into which the raindrops could fall, and the countless formations my thoughts sometimes take.

The curve of the continuum found its way into the tempo. The ink rain found its way onto the map. The ink slowly covers the pictures of the land on the map just as concepts overlay letters to give them meaning.

Look out the window for Schrödinger’s cat and the heavens shift.

A feeling that captures the moment, radiation and ink began to float outside of the context.

Dark spots in my vision began to swallow my sight entirely.

 

 


 

 

Poetry written by Arron Leland
I’ll try to catch the part of me that is falling. Until then I’ll try to learn how use my wings from the butterflies that hand me the phone when you’re calling. – Arron Leland

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