Memories of Light Three: Architechs  

rm_nSAIOL
1 posts
12/23/2005 9:06 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

Memories of Light Three: Architechs

Nothing is quite like.. the real thing. I sat and thought to myself a little under twenty years ago. Not knowing that in my adult years as time would have it I would one day attempt to trace the steps of memory…to such an amazement that my views beheld. Unescapable and vascillating in an urban landscape is the only description at that point that hewn a definitive crux of meaning to me. As I then was just beginning my ventures from 113th street and Forest Ave in Roseland on Chicago’s southside where my family lived to downtown and beyond. Lake Michigan, the Magnificent Mile, and the transport was enough for me to dazzle in amazement. As to be expected this is quite natural. However well after the structural newness upon my eyes were worn the natural and artificial light never became a mundane part. For it parted.
I soon learned that men were architechs and created monumental designs but that God was responsible for architechures of light. This is the only thing that has ever really been drastically evident to me through a combination of multi deminsional realities.
I found out that it not just the shadow that the light bulb,lamp, or sun cast….but it’s the ubiquitous geometry of it all. The angled sheen abbreviates an essence far beyond its captive state. The box, line, structure, slope, and precipice are not omniscient. They are bound to the physical and will crumble. And as sky-scrappers continue to rise they will also to be engineered to genuflect a dim jewel in place and space in testimony like rhinestones. Set in the backdrop of a dazzling tapestry of light through the sunscape shown. A drama had opened unknown to me as I shifted my eyes from the window coddle up in an all black-bubble jacket siting across from me on the train with some tight jeans on of red denim with every last friend she had written on them with ink and pen. A curly cursive stylish writing of their own sprawled over every last inch of her pants. I in my world was grounded with a souflee of desire and without calculation. As I glanced upward I at that point was a voyeur and held a steady gaze upon her lips. I noticed that her thick vaseline swarthed lips and how the impressions and lines all in the spectrum of succulent fleshtones mimic the radians of the sun, a delicate perspective. I noticed the serenity of her almond-shaped eyes and the way her warm amberish brown eyes carried light...then I sunk deeper into my seat. After a few moments of gazing silence I noticed the moisture in my palms as she giggled and blushed.


Become a member to create a blog