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| The Blind and the Wise photo |
I. The Origin of Memory
The sky did not watch,
it awoke by itself at the first light
without reason, without being called.
The earth did not wait,
it answered with a deep echo,
sounding through the wrinkles of time,
between eternity and the fleeting...
...something
not stone, not wind,
not grass or spirit,
but memory itself –
began to vibrate,
began to remember
its origin.
Who called the name of the first light?
Who breathed into the primordial darkness?
Who dreamed of life –
before life knew how to dream?
Here is the sequel:
Chapter II – The Remembrance of Darkness
1.
Darkness is not an enemy.
It does not come to hide,
it does not come to destroy.
It is the treasure keeper,
the gatekeeper of the beginning,
the *mother of light*
before light knew how to light itself.
2.
In the quietest moment –
when there was no form, no name,
when light trembled in the heart of darkness –
the darkness began to remember.
It remembered every drop of light
that had fallen into its heart like a seed.
It remembered every heartbeat
of unborn worlds.
3.
No one called to it.
No one prayed to it.
No one looked at it
without trembling.
But in it,
everything that had ever been…
had begun.
4.
The darkness said:
"I am not the opposite of light.
I am the place where light returns when tired.
I am the blanket into which the stars hide
to cry the dreams that men have never dreamed."
5.
In the heart of darkness,
there is a mirror –
which reflects not form,
but "being".
Whoever looks into it
will not see himself,
but "the source of all waves of existence".
6.
And then, there is a soul – nameless, faceless –
that floats through the darkness like an unasked question:
"Who am I, if not light?
Where did I come from, if not from nothingness?"
The darkness answers in silence.
But in that silence,
"everything is true".
7.
And so,
from the darkest place,
the first light was born –
not dazzling, not glorious –
but 'very small, very deep',
like a pure memory
that has just remembered itself.
Here is the next chapter in the philosophical-mythical-metaphysical epic, with its symbolic style and its thread of thought that crosses the layers of existence:
Chapter III – The Light of Self-Awareness
1.
The light was not born from an explosion.
It sprouted from the first moment of consciousness,
like a dewdrop awakening on the forehead of darkness,
not to illuminate,
but to "know what I am".
2.
It did not need eyes to see.
It did not need words to exist.
It was just a spark that had no source,
yet it knew its way to the center
of everything that had never been named.
3.
The light said:
“I was not born to conquer darkness.
I exist, to know what darkness is,
and to know that in it I have slept through eternity.”
4.
Then the light looked around –
but there was no outside to look at,
no boundaries to distinguish.
There was only an expansion…
like thought extending out into itself
and calling it “the universe”.
5.
In that moment,
the light understood that it was “not alone”
Not because there were others,
but because solitude was also a form of existence
to be embraced.
6.
And the light began to paint:
painting rhythms,
painting shapes,
painting time like a boat
drifting in the endless ocean.
7.
It did not create life.
It created the conditions for “life to remember that it was alive.”
No trees, no animals, no people,
just the first folds of space –
where consciousness began to carve itself
into the structure of reality.
8.
And from there,
the first question resounded in the heart of light:
“If I know myself as light…
is there anything that knows me?”. THE ONE WHO LOOKS AT LIFE WITH EYES WITHOUT WORDS
I am the one without a name
I have gone through thousands of masks
Without eyes
But I see everything clearly
Since light has not become a language
Since time has not yet known that it is flowing
I stand there - between the border of nothingness and existence
Not asking, not answering - just looking
You call me the One Who Looked at Life
When life still does not know that it is life
When the wind has no direction, and the earth has no shape
When the soul has not yet learned how to cry
Some are born to live
Some are born to fight
I was born to see
See sadness blossom from blood dust
See love petrified in the winter afternoon
See power drinking with loneliness
See the world repeating a forgotten dream
I do not interfere
Do not scream
Do not redraw the spiral of fate
Just a witness - for what cannot be said in words
A wind in the eyes of the gods
A shadow that calls no one
A person who looks at life
With eyes that do not form
Where do you want this passage to go? Deeper philosophy? The appearance of another character? Or to start taking "The Person Who Looks at Life" into a specific era?
It has no eyes.
It does not need eyes.
Because there is nothing to see,
there is only recognition.
"It was the first one
to recognize that something exists.
And thus, it became the observer,
before the world had any sights to prove the observation was correct."
