To Become Human

To wait, for silence, for light, we believe that it will come, if we pray, if we die, the white horse will return, but what if within each breath that is breathing before us now, is the answer to it all, as the drapes are flung open towards the stars, the eyes are like a fisher’s net cast out to grasp the essence of our being, drudging up anything we could hold or would dare to bring up to the surface, with so many questions, searching through the debris, questions for our beginnings, our endings, such an abrupt arousal from this earth, or was is it from beyond, some transitory transplant of communication, wrapped up in the lost baggage claims of our bodies, walking amongst this firmament for years and years in estranged wonder, what are these constellations, are they a map designed by some heretic, a drunken cosmic sailor caught off course, are they a trajectory that we might herald a signal upon to catch a ride back, to where ever we may be going, should we be looking not outward, but from within, delving deeper into the cellular matrixes from underneath our skin, to establish the telemetry, the codex imprinted on each dueling helix, the serpents dancing with infinite potentials, the eternal embrace holding the structure of this system within the hard drives of each tiny cell, a labyrinth of neural servers connecting and relaying signals to and from this body, this mind, and then out through the comic rays, then back again, the great paradox of reason, as the universe is learning a new language, a universe trying to realize what it is to become human.

– Josh Fleming


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