Critical, creative and digital writingEcriture critique, créative et numérique

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18 11 2014  

Thinking matter

If the invisible does not offer itself to my gaze And the intangible keeps evading my grasp If the silent drowses off in mute waves And the motionless congeals into fluid state How can I find a sense A direction to life A hold of the real A sensation of immanence and unity? These thoughts trouble me They plunge me into my self As in a freefall Of the imaginary I think the body And my spirit moves on This is indeed a thinking matter When one thinks about matter I laugh in silence The invisible has now revealed its self In an ear-splitting avalanche Whose senseless racket Is sensed in these forethought statements The intangible transforms its self In a rectilinear advance of words Transubstantiated by the thorough movement Of our eyes and of our fingers The silent appears to me It is the warm glimmer of a candle, Of my garlanded spirit That consumes its self ɪn frægmənts of tʃɑ:ɼd leksɪs With my index I trace the major part of an imaged ring I clench my fists, I bleed my soul dry, The motionless crystallises In a sensuous vapor that grazes my palms Do not believe this is no thinking matter when one thinks matter, For I feel it: These attempts become a susurrant cecity That takes me down to the bottom of the valley of my thoughts. Through the movement of the visible and the tangible, I break the silence and make a dent That burns me and plunders me and makes me sensitive to… me It is in those moments of sensuous materiality That I find out the sense of eternity: In the silence of the word I discover the racket of the body And the immanence of the unfathomable imposes itself onto me