It is far away. Even though I sense it close, it is miles away from where I am.
And the event is one that hasn’t ever been experienced before or at least it has been so long ago that it is beyond recall. It is a unique and daunting experience at the same time. A belligerent volcano that is eager to exhibit its sole purpose in time. Each eye will see it with a different perspective — of dread, amazement, wonder and angst. What perspective will be, what the mind’s eye will see, will depend on the context that the eyes have been smeared with — for years in existence.
No metallic-orange stream is in control and the molten mass of minerals flow like thoughts that don’t feel the need to abide by the mind’s direction. Some flow relentless as if with a deliberate purpose, speedily snaking their way down the slope — like tourists in a new town with one day left to walk a hundred streets. The delinquent ones create a fountain of fury, spitting randomly, compass-less, without care. Through the crater, the juveniles burst out with glee; a large drop here and a small drop there become one with a purposeful stream here or a truant stream there.
Some slow down to death on their way, doused by the cold un-welcoming earth on which they meander. They simmer and fizzle in their tracks and become a cold black hardened memory of an adventure that could have been. A thought evaporating into nothingness, before it was expressed.
The source itself continues to vomit further fury. More streams follow, some of them angrier than those before — seemingly more determined and reinforcing the weaker dying ones. Unorganised and orphaned from meaning. They gallop over the dead streams made cold and black.
Some balancing act eventually takes place, the core cools down, even for a while and shuts the volcano’s mouth.
“Shut, for now, we have balanced; meaning can now be found amongst the corpses of the thoughts and the rivulets sprinkled with ash.”