Saturday, June 30, 2012

Spherevirginia Rides the Sea Unons

Spherevirginia Rides the Sea Unons

L. Edgar Otto    June, 2012

The SphereVirgin cradled the Uni-urchin in her hands for it had broken free in the freedom of the seas from the nets of the fisher-folk in far away Nippon.

She did not know if she pushed it along with her tail-fin or it pulled her through the undercurrents and whirlpools of the salty brine as if waterspout filled wind.

In her wake the shoal of fish as if lesser mare maids followed her each in line and all directions as if lesser sea-lings the scuddy sea carved in her image.

Sometimes they were aligned as if part of a net all facing the same way and sometimes they dispersed disconnected in all directions but in chance cycles formed again.

Their antics disturbed the mare maid's dreams for she fancied herself one who cares and to the care she needed she was blind, her soul still without its human dream.

Yet she was wiser than the hive and herd of fish that their dreams and code within would not unravel her sense of adventure and self, each diverse image unique in each other

Some of them stayed close to her warm blooded source of light and played the groves of her electric space the lay lines of her electric song radiating from her magnetic body.

Yet the sea although an endless shore to crawl up upon in dreams too had its sea-lings and these too would rest beyond the equator that defines the night, the lucky ones attached

Of which she could feed them light and phosphor and teach them as she had struggled to learn and yet she mourned that in the crystal snowflake memory her care vaguely recalled

The transition to the shore for to dust return to heat the yoke and germ and shell of unon eggs takes the risk to find the one among the tens of thousands that leave the nest

The palm bending hurricane winds can break and wash out the turtle eggs before they take the chance to swim out to see at one with its compass spin from its crystal core within

The great colossus of iron and bronze, of Neptune and his youthful gift, the Horse, new sea-lings and their hippodrome returns this wonder of the world to scrap forgotten, sold

Yet the statue was not the god himself, anymore than the mare-maid had but a body made of muscles and marrows
no feet for stirrups to aim and guide time's arrows

Even in the world as hypersea, blood and salt, there is no guarantee the soul is gained or caught in nets or harpoons nor one through all the phase space, or many moons.

* * * * *

Quasic Interdimensional Colour Notation Review:

* * * * * 


  1. I cannot say that I like that. I would prefer not to read my name there.

  2. OK, Ulla but it was meant with the utmost respect. I will change it, perhaps Unons.
    You are a catalyst for our new ideas. Sorry.

    The PeSla

  3. Ye, but I am 'allergic' to seeing my name. It almost always feels bad. Too much bad memories, I think.