Pulse
With each beat, a light pulses. Bright, almost white, at its center, fading through hues of Cerenkov blue to the darkness of space at its edges, the light briefly brightens and then dims slightly, rhythmically speaking to itself. Each beat quickly spreads out from the center, echoing into the void as if on the other side some celestial being absentmindedly was casting drops of water into the center of a pool whose surface was invisible to those of us within its body. With every vibration of the light, a low hum spreads like the brightness of the light itself, and then fades to just below our level of hearing as the light dims. Is this what the heart of the universe looks like, a big bang remnant softly spinning, pulsating, and humming to itself with little regard to any observation? Perhaps this is the quark gluon mix, so small as to make color meaningless, infinitely repeated across the empty reaches of space and within our bodies, beating in and out of phase less in conversation than in a universal song of being. Starting at the edges where the blue cannot be distinguished from the black, purple creeps in, spreading throughout the light, sizes and sentiments change and this ultraviolet mood swing gives way to a dull and moody red. Still, the beats continue and the light has taken on a more familiar shape, and the rhythm matches our own. The vibrations are within now; the sound is the blood rushing through our veins and arteries, the pulse our own inner life. But it is more than blood and more than atoms, an echoing pulse of the dance of existence as we swing about, hand in hand on the dance floor of creation.
Hmm, wow, that's a pretty good turn of prose.
ReplyDeleteI admit we probably have had similar images from that word.
Pulse. Like the documentary i recently watched on the font helvetica (its pretty neat) one old typist said something pretty profound to me.
"Type is not the letters, its the space between them. Just as music is not the notes, its the space between the notes that makes the music"
I think he's exactly right. Pulse is the lull, its the essence of anticipation, its the rising action, climax, descending action, and the span of time before the next wave washes over you. Thus I am thinking, energy, beat, wave, ripple, like all of the above. Incorporating and releasing the energy that you cannot keep but hold onto the memory of. I reckon it doesn't help that I am listening to rap right now. Oh well.