The Ontologically Recursive, Quasi-Solipsistic, and Self-Annihilating Platonic Microcosm
© 2010 Tim Fort
IN the beginning, it began with the divine logos ‘In’, and then the first sentence was done. The second sentence was as self-referential as the first one, and its raison d’être was to fill the gap between the first and third sentences. By the third sentence, there was a hint of something more. And when the last sentence of the first paragraph appeared, a definite wisp of narrative had curled over the gray existential void.
And then the ontologically recursive, quasi-solipsistic, and self-annihilating platonic Microcosm started to develop into something more. A vague, indistinct landscape slowly emerged from the platonic fog and a couple of shadowy figures blurred the horizon. As the landscape became more distinct, the figures became two distinct beings. The land of dreams separated itself further from the mists; it was a land of rolling hills that became increasingly sunnier as the fog lifted. And the two figures had reified themselves into two human beings, a man and a woman.
As the landscape became more lush and verdant, majestic trees, waterfalls, and mountains appeared in the background. And in the foreground, columns, fountains, and other architectural details started to emerge. Behind the man and woman, a low marble balustrade appeared, and above them, birds were flying in the sun-dappled canopy of a couple of majestic oaks.
The man and woman weren’t strangers, but lovers, and their hearts were fully entwined. He was clad in princely attire with a large ostrich plume protruding from his red felt hat. She wore a lithe violet dress of the sheerest gossamer, and as the sunlight filtered through the trees, it gave her hair a vermillion glow. He was strumming on a lute and singing to her a barcarole, a song of love amongst the gondoliers.
And then it swelled to a crescendo. The landscape became heart-renderingly lush, an Arcadian wonderland that would make a Maxfield Parrish cream his oils. She loved him with all her heart, and he couldn’t imagine life without her. As he played his song of love, bluebirds of happiness chirped in, and tears of joy welled in her eyes.
They were rapt with bliss in that Empyrean garden as they beheld the Beatific Vision in each others’ eyes, and their love swelled to orgasmic intensity with pink unicorns prancing about and a multitude of cherubim joining in on their golden song of love until their emotion swelled to a glorious climax with the Gates of Paradise swinging open upon a heavenly chorus, and...
And, because the Creator was finished with his cosmic opera and wanted to go eat some ginger snaps, it abruptly disintegrated into nothingness...
The End