out there

 In the beginning, 

there was no beginning, 

because when and where would the beginning be, 

but you have to start somewhere, 

so in a beginning, 

let’s say an inconceivable seed is dropped into sweet oblivion and later, 

a hard to imagine, immeasurable amount of time later,  

many many generations later, 

the seed of a descendant of that seed is dropped by solar irradiation and penetration of our mother planet, summoning the seedling forth, toward the big daddy sun, but still rooted in the mother, nourished by mother, and powered by the distant father, 

if the solar system is symbolized as a patriarchy, 

and the planets are wives, 

but the universe itself is an inconceivable seed in a self-begetting egg in the womb that always is, I guess, and the seedling becomes who she is, the soul, drawn to the beloved, lover and beloved, joined and transformed, transcending, rising above, going beyond all limits, triumphing over all negations and restrictions, overcoming, beyond material existence, space and time, 

and so prior to the universe, even, above and below and away from all that, 

out out and out and out there, 

way, far, freaking, out there.

4:20 ante meridiem, Brahma’s time, the day after Ash Wednesday, some place in Lenapehoking, in a space carved out of air with dry wall and studs in a brick building that was a factory before gentrification, la noche oscura with city lights and the sputtering flame in my heart — I throw some kindling and caffeine on that flame and watch the universe burn down. 

Last night my late wife’s dream body appeared and began to make love to me but there was a distraction from, I forget, and I woke up and it was 3 AM, so I got up and made coffee. Some guru on YouTube says that Brahmamuhurtma starts 3:20 to 3:40 AM and you will wake up the right time, if you are an initiate, but isn’t life itself initiation? 

In the beginning, life is breathed into mud, Eve is breathed into Adam, form comes to the formless, and things begin to seem to make sense, as I assemble symbols into a pattern and maybe even tell a story or finish the painting, thanking the Creator that I don’t have to listen to the impeachment any more.