The History of a “Click!”

I had a flash of light pass through the cells of my imagination: it was a day that called for a photograph; like a hungry wolf, it craved, crawled and howled for one. My fingers itched to feel the weight of the camera, the delicate balance of the perfectly aligned mirrors, lens and the breath of the aperture as it exhaled with each blink of the shutter curtains flicking and falling, stirring old dust and setting the calm lakes aflame with ripples. So I picked up my old partner in mischief and head into a vast hallway of unknown steps, marble corridors, hidden pathways, dusty trails, abandoned highways and thickets. Where my light (for it was mine, and nobody else’s) took me, it was impossible to tell since a viewfinder only offers a limited perception, one eye at a time. It was a scream of colors, shades, blackness and blinding light of the impending doom, wandering, weaving, brutally reflecting, smashing, bouncing, twisting and turning, diffracted or amplified as my eyes slowly flooded and the tears began to pour out: a silent storm of crevices, like a rain of bokeh and softness. And then…and THEN, like that rebellious particle that just couldn’t stay put and just HAD to move, bringing about the end of an endless era of stillness into the fulminating chaos of Creation, expanding tentacles of hot, ionized gases, consuming the perfect black of the astral sleep…just like that I…clicked! The camera began to heave as the pulleys shook their old laziness and began to lift (screeching in silent tongues of the Ancient Ones) the mirror, the curtains stirred dust (into the space where imagination, passion, hopes, dreams meet their catalyst, blending and morphing) and flashed open and with the trembling of the entire apparatus, the aperture opened with a microscopic twitch of the fatigued ballerina, the whole dark corridor trembling, shaking smothered in tension and suspense as the light began to flood every dark corner where the slightest touch of Evil might have ever hidden, crackling noise of the suicidal photons, rushing rapidly towards the very fibers of mind, depleting their collagen nature, tearing though tissue and bringing about the Lux Aeternam shining upon Bliss. The camera bled! It bleed for an endless eternity as I stared in wonder, my eyes blind and my mind fractured, my heart into pulsating struggle, my breath nowhere to be found but my feet unable to support and collapsing like old pillars of antique temples when the Ocean of Sensation gushes in, with the delicacy of a raging Tsunami. For you see, in my imprudence, in my impossibility to understand…but, then again, what human being could ever possibly understand? Do gods dream of this when it’s time for Uthenera?  Have I reached the primordial states of hot matter and disoriented particles clashing into a dance of Death that sprung Life?… …in my childish curiosity, I pointed the lens (with the finesse of the accomplished artist, as I wanted myself to think, to believe, cold, calculated, with the grace of a…cannon) towards the very incipient mixture of primordial wonders, where worlds still rise and fall, nebulae of thoughts and condensed wormholes of emotions, ready to make you lose yourself and everything else in, where stars appear at any given moment and Supernova flashes are a common occurrence: her eyes… In a fraction of the time it takes for the soul to realize its nature, my light, her light, all the lights that ever were or ever will be, both dark and vivid, hidden or obscene formed a spectrum indivisible by nothing than the heart-reason prism, and in no manner by a measly, simplistic instrument constructed of cold condensed surfaces that merely copied one upon another, transporting form but not substance, creating but crystals of chipped Cosmos encapsulating casts of human conscience… It is alive, it has grown roots and it’s growing inwards, inverted and uncomprisingly unstoppable inside of me!  So it was born, and so it lives on: by these glimpses of blinks in the photon’s eye, by those tiny moments when you are nothing yet everything, when moving so fast you feel like grabbing light and whip it like a whip, with thunder and lightning alongside your shoulders and splashes of electric cuts that bleed…Life And I cannot help but wonder…how many of my atoms, formerly belonging to one of the Great Poets:  Ovidius, Homer, Virgil, how many of them, residing now in me, in my right temple or in the valves that open my heart, how many of them will release the energies they contained in a time where Aeneas walked the earth, lifting me higher and higher, how many of them will irradiate like a million plutonium Suns…just so that I can start to understand…how? (Because how is much more important than why.)

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