It’s here. What is? Ah, yes! My seeing, hearing, and speaking; or well, the eye of my I, the here of my ears, and the drouth of my mouth. Of course, what I mean is the body, mind, heart, and soul of my body. He appears on a beach of deep violet sands, where underneath, he walks above the softly vibrating grains that formulate configurations I would/he could call spiral waltz, and there, above silent—hi, gorgeous~—appears the glint of sunset orange, which orange? Perception is a vivid orange and reality cowers inside it.
It is only the sentient and sapient physical constructs that claim to perceive colors, and that is tricky business between the is and the ought. So, let me/us return, briefly, to my body. I think (therefore!) that this body is an abstract configuration the way emanationism kisses the realm of the scientific (what means which?) and the divine (which means what?). There are discussions about this, and the discussions often appears as:
(The side of is.) How dare you collude with…with…_____!
(The side of ought.) How dare you collude with…with…_____!
Opinions are lovely, and I love opinions (because I must remember that all things, at least for myself, is language and abstractions and abstractions attaching themselves to language). So, my opinion about my body, which walks there in a version of itself on a Drifting Shore (the particular-universal domain) in the Sunset Reality (the universal-particular domain) is that when it bursts forth in fluorescence, then it shall see, hear, and speak all communications, simultaneously detecting the fragrance and flavors of omni-all things, and then, in that unraveling, all other senses will unlock.
Oh, beautiful body, I cannot remember when our skins formed and all perceptions coalesced into this singularity, and when I lose your stately stature, I shall miss you.
Charm Chandler (he/it) is a graphomaniac from the Sunset Reality. He is the author of two nameless short stories, the both of which can be (un)found in Fleas on the Dog and The Collidescope. His poetic work can be found in Vita Poetica and underneath a different pseudonym (he does not encourage you to find it), Poetic Sun. When he is not writing, he is perpetually confused.