A humming singularity bloomed directly in the center of the prairie before me. From the size of a grain of sand, its noncolor an unscratchable itch to the vision, it swelled to a radiant globe the size of a grapefruit with a shockwave of distorted overtones bringing the summoning song to an abrupt end. Everywhere around it, space was as if weighed down, sagging in impossible dimensions under the density of its presence.

The gaze naturally averted from the tiny trefoil core of the singularity, which seemed to be generating the magneto-gravitic field causing disruptions in the local environment. Even the color started going out of the world, and it was less that the singularity stole hues as that it erased in the memory the existence of the idea of color.

I thought for a moment, which broke me out of the awed reverie in which I had been witnessing the portal. Some magnet in my chest hurtled me towards unbearable brilliance. I saw, in grotesque suddenness, the earth transfigured into my countenance — there, my brow of moss and oak, there my puddled eyes. There and there my ears and nose of boulders, lips — a magmic pool.

The orb became my own: my ajnic eye, with nature's color stolen. Lashed, unblinking, seeing not — but witnessing, observing all. In dream-gesture's equivalent of a shrug I let the paradox play out — and I was swallowed by that stolid, wise, unblinking eye. Right before my selfhood vanished, I recalled, so strange: an amber-tinged mahogany against the monochrome.

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The writing and images in this post is original content
created by @d-pend to be published on blockchain on
------------------------------March 28, 2020------------------------------

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