THE LIFE AND DEATH OF AN UNKNOWN

She was certified dead. That is to say she had glazed over unable or unwilling to put sense to the chaos all around. So she was plugged into a charger and pumped back into life though of course the frequency had to be high enough to overcome the conditions of permanent death that now seemed a fact. At last with sparks flying into white light and voices piercing into shattering trills that seemed to circle around one another indefinitely the deed was done and life had its say. But what kind of a life was this? A high one that is for sure. And her shoes needed to be weighted down with heavy led in order to keep her from flying off from place to place. And so it was that her very life needed to be held in check in order that it could be held at all. Such was the conditions of her life and she reached around for the colours just above her head which every now and then condensed out of the steam of white light that was her life condition but could never be seen for what it was. For such a life is too fierce and almost blinding to those around who must according to their judgement avert their eyes. So the colours each at a time became her life-line and out of these colours she wove necklaces which wound their way around her and took her from moment to moment in a series of eclipsed fragments. She had no memory of her own but she wore the colours that people liked to see. And so it was no loss to her when one day she was unplugged from the high voltage which was too high to be lived and then she melted back down into one as all the colours that had moved her merged into a huge calm open lake and from here she gazed up at the trees and the birds and the sky all day long. And the stones that one finds underneath the water of a lake or an ocean or a river are all that remains of the shoes that she once wore to route her to earth. Yet she found another way of flying. To stay put and meet the world from where she was. To see clearly in the transparency of things the whole picture.