Infinity is just an idea. It does not exist in reality. It cannot exist in reality. As a painter you are told it is the point at which parallel lines meet but, by definition, parallel lines never meet. They only appear to meet if you are far enough away. Even further away the lines disappear completely. From even further away we all disappear, even the planet disappears.
Perhaps infinity existed as the potential of everything before the beginning of time and space, before the polarization of energy which created physical matter, before the act of division which makes two out of one or the act of multiplication which takes two twice to become four. Finite means limited. Infinite means unlimited, without end, encompassing and containing all things. Are there any bounds in an ever expanding universe?
I no longer know who I am, or what I am. I’m starting to wonder, is it a scam? I think in ever widening circles, generating parallel lines, trying to meet at infinity, even without an identity. Trying to hug one other. Trying to overcome. Trying to turn two into one. Then one becoming zero. No one’s becoming a hero. No one left behind. Nothing left to find. No longer an expansion. An imploding universe. Entropy slowing down matter. Light speed diminished. Heat no longer radiating. Out of range. Climate change. Random weather. Here we are, still, all together. A pandemic spreading pandemonium. How are we doing? Close to ruin? At zero degrees Kelvin everything stops. Atomic spin frozen. Molecules dismembering. Compounds collapsing. Economies shrinking. Keeps us thinking. Time trying to catch up. Sounds dissolving before they’ve begun. Politicians trying to run. Trying to win. Things are getting really thin. We are in a tail spin. Unsteady. Getting ready. Everything’s going around and around. Ready or not we’re going down. They won’t let you out, so, you can’t go to town. So instead of a protest, a fight or a frown, come on into my Underground.
These are the crossroads. Not even very far away. They are the meeting places, Where things happened. Where things continue to happen. Where anything could happen. Hasn’t happened yet. Where nobody knows, Everyone is on their toes, And, anything goes.
These places are marked by stones instead of crosses. Crosses were not yet in fashion. At first a cross just meant “this is the crossing of two ways”, Two leylines, two roads, two ways to go. Where are you going? Do you think you know? If you don’t, just wait around. Someone will show up, sooner or later, From up the road or down the road, From the right way or the wrong way. Yea or nay? Who’s to say?
Maybe things will get better. Maybe angels will emerge from behind the wings, And, sing to you, like they do, in the theater. Maybe the rabbit will tell you where he is going. Maybe he will invite you along. Maybe he will sing you a song.
Maybe you will be fooled by gypsies, frightened by giants, confronted by wizards, challenged by dragons, entertained by troubadours, wined and dined on honeycake and holly berries, by the fairies, feasted with soldiers returning home from war, their work well done, brandishing a gun, celebrating they had won, don’t know what they were fighting for, but, drunk on beer and tons of fun under the sun, conferred with fortune tellers, conversed with fools, confused clowns with rules, tried to shoot down the moon, concocted a fire breathing, tight rope, lion taming, balancing act, swallowing a sword on a trapeze, (quite ok, as long as there isn’t a breeze, but, still, be careful and try not to sneeze), crossed borders, battle scarred, holding your breath, scared to death, crossed bridges without maps or hangovers, lightening rods or four leafed clovers, crossed fingers while praying for better luck, tried not to get stuck, prepared a disappearing act, after the fact, to rescue the lovely, enchanted princess, from the vipers who live in the viper’s nest.
So, that’s the whole show, and, now you can go. You can go wherever you want to go. Nobody even has to know. Never a fear. Never a tear. No rules here. Just try it, my dear.
The edge of insanity looks just like everywhere else. Smells like gunpowder. Sounds like a rip-roaring, good time or a flip-flop, fizzy pop, Paper weights on roller skates. A drowning clown. Jelly beans are on the rise, Swimming upside down.
Everything makes sense because twelve is equal to three. Nothing is equal to everything. Everything is equal to nothing. Nothing times anything doesn’t exist, Doesn’t explain. Don’t try to complain. There’s nothing to lose and nothing to gain. I’m staying out of the wind and the rain.
Otherwise, I am everywhere. I am a round, inside of a square. Bet you’ve never, ever been there. Not like this anyway. Who would dare? Trying and multiplying myself. Why would you even care?
Now, I’ve got a thousand eyes. Questioning whose and wheres and whys. A blinding, blinking strobe light, Another blinding insight, Always wrong, but sometimes right. If you don’t like it I’m willing to fight. I have left myself on an empty shelf, Trying not to run over myself. For the rest of the day, I’m going and growing and, going to play, With a fish and a frog, And, a fly and an elf.
What are you going to do?
Written, very quickly, by V. Castellanos – April 14, 2020
I am no longer painting hit or miss. I am painting the real thing. I am painting masterpieces with precision and perfection. I am painting with white oil paint on white oil cloth. I am writing poetry with white ink on white paper. Anything goes. Beautiful brush strokes, imaginative and invisible. No need to say anything. Don’t need to cross my ts, Never need to finish a sentence. A masterpiece by any standard. Better than a masterpiece. Nothing like it ever seen before. That’s real art. Says something different to everyone. Whatever you think, whatever you want, whatever you fear. Whatever is relevant, whatever is stronger. As meaningful as you want it to be. Everything is included. Don’t know what you are looking at? Use your imagination. Join the party. Validate yourself. You’re just as good as anyone else. So, vote for me.
A sham or a shame, It’s a way to play the game. Everyone wants to win the race, Everyone wants to be in first place.
I will be hanging out with the Emperor, awaiting the results and expecting to win first prize.
Written, tongue in cheek, by V. Castellanos – April 13, 2020