THE GENESIS OF TRANSMUTATION
For the past few days, oblivion has been tormenting me. The violence of meaning weighed on my soul as heavy as a star. A great tyranny of things stabbed through me repeatedly, and I had been made to lay on my bed, defeated, my tortured soul calling for oblivion. That was the torment, my torment, the private torment, the self-made torment.
In one of those dark nights, as I floated through the darkness I wished to return to, Le Soleil called to me, its blazing glory filling my body like a holy spirit. I had taken for myself a gift, its light giving me vitality, it spoke to me, and through its words I was convinced. By my own volition I’ve decided, I shall kill the great Tyrant.
As I got up from the bed there was no darkness or light, only material, only my flesh, the wood of the bed, the wooly comfort, the stale air. I turned to the Tyrant, there it stood, facing me directly, in its crystal case. It followed my movements, imitating me, while remaining confined in its rectangular gate-window. I raised my fist, and mobilized all my vitalities to strike him down, my flesh weapon making contact with his flat glass body, it shattered on impact.
The Tyrant reduced to tiny triangular shards of reflection scattered throughout my room. It damaged me as I hit it, its sharp being cutting through my flesh, making me ejaculate the red of life, the finish to this erotic ordeal. Once done so Le Soleil called to me again, its vitality invading my room through the closed door, inviting me to the outside. I opened it and outside I saw the beautiful nature, Le Soleil in all its splendor, it everywhere but also in its own spot. In a nature of one-thing-multiple-things, and I part of it.
Ahead of me there was the path up the mountain, the mountain of the great aristocrats, as Le Soleil touched me again I felt the energy of a thousand rebels, and realized what was to be done. I grabbed a knife with me and began my ascent, I hopped, I skipped, I spun and I sung, I sung hymns to heroism, to those who came before and to those who will come after, to the great violence that will liberate, to the coming red flood and the eternal action of liberation. I was joyful, I was alive.
I rose up the top, above the clouds, there at the peak was a great pyre, burning in all of Le Soleil’s glory. I looked at great Soleil, and proceeded with the ritual of my liberation. I removed all my clothes, throwing them all the way down. Then, I took my knife and turned it to myself, slashing through my skin. From there, I peeled myself off, removed my skin so only the red of intimacy would participate in what was to come.
I walked into the fire, calmly, letting it kiss me and love me. I then once again took my knife and turned it to myself, this time aiming at my chest. I pierced a hole, and cut further down to make it bigger, I then threw the knife away and entered the hole with my hands, grasping for my heart. Once taking it, I raised it up above my head, letting it bleed over me, and gave it to Le Soleil, so I could take from it.
After it accepted my sacrifice and took my heart away from me, I smiled. I turned my attention to the fire and I fully immersed myself in it, I fucked it, its shape overtaking me. I did not turn to ash, instead, the blaze and I would become indistinguishable, my shapes lighting up and morphing until I was part of the great fire, dancing with the wind.
The fire danced and it sparked, roaring in victorious glory. Soon however, the movement would begin to be captured, a territory once undone would once again begin to be reconstituted. The dance of the flames began to make shapes, it would make feathers, and from feathers make form, and the form, a great bird.
From the fires I raised up my wings, with a quick motion I took flight, and I flew, flew towards Le Soleil, so that I could burn again.