A language held by a particular frequency in a particular time, it is the sentient manifestation of Spirit held in form. It is the language that will transform into a beast.
What brings continental shifts in time?
Another realm not far away in a distant land, but an inner world that one can unearth from within, an awakening from time. What, if anything, if gods could speak? A writer transcends the material world when in a trance with god, driving down an interstate configured with the lone eyes of the improbable. An animal screams.
Beyond the comprehension of One single narrative, trust there is more than this. Trust one is connected to the light outside this hell. Absolute pain heals absolutely. The transcription of interpretation, and even then the shift away from the very identification. The very unknown became the story. The very subject of its own existence, the eventual journey to abandon the idea of its very self and join that which is Being.
As the narrative breathes, takes shape, becomes sentient. As is the erasure of time, the skinning of a beast, the narrative that sinks into place, an identification with a particular perception: the beloved interpretation of time.
Tribes and herds clench and cling to their beloved narrative and their perceived identity. A simple fact may run the filters and mazes of interpretations launching a chain reaction through different tribes and herds, nations and times. Narratives are crafted by emotions and thought: a wrench into the machinery, a wretched language into the code, a consciousness drowned in noise, an allegory with each protagonist carrying the symbolic, bearing within the shaping of worlds.
There is no princess, no knight, no dragon to slay, an allegory transforming in an un-recognizable position, blending into light, into the infinite One Being.
As is freedom wrought by pain, an exploration of a world unknown, the falling away of the old time based structures, as is the transformation of mind. Commentary on the transcription: the investigation of the time based language, of its trajectory, its meaning, shape, dimensions, cargo, and arrangement, is mind.
The wasteland is not all the world.