In that golden hour
when memories fall
like photographs from
some upturned valise ,
☆
Covered in esoteric symbols
like the record of some
bizarre travelogue through
magic , time and space .
☆
Faces shimmer in the
cool night air .
Those ghostly lanterns
then disappear in a
mist ,
☆
While forty-two saints read their lives .
The Knave , a Sleeping Princess
and the King of Hearts ,
all gone now and
dust stops their mouths .
☆
But in another century
blazing with the fire of
a thousand suns ,
then giants walked the earth
and made all time their own .
☆
Though now , as I sit here
in this solitary room
marked by time's passage
and the romance of decay ,
☆
They seem to live still ,
more vibrant and bejewelled
than the phantoms of daylight
and their prisons of the mind .
☆
In dreams they speak to me
in foreign tongues
and in curious manner , like angels
they confound my understanding .
☆
In daytime they leave messages
and strange symbols ,
in numbers and
words that are not there .
☆
The Moon is shining bright .
Their voices sing in the wind .
Everything is just a story
and all of it is real .

Creatures of
The night
Speaking only in
The language of
Wings in flight
Raucous caws and calls
Such stark delights
Their bird brains
A substance
To behold
They play and
They learn as
Ancient tales often told
They are symbols
Of fate and omens,
And "What's to be"
Guiding us along
Paths unknown
And simply unseen

The evenings rang true at a time when we would engage in snooker or chess in the lounge, late into the night, waiting for daybreak to shine through.

On the weekends we would gather and watch the cricket begin: shirts versus skins on Emerald Green. Men versus women. The mens’ ******* seemed to ripple in the weekend air.

Mid-morning was reserved for artistic endeavours— honing our artistic sensibilities: a decidely symbolistic manner of preparition in which we would prepare. We would recite lines and manifest Shakespeare there, at the cusp of Emerald Green.

What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces.
There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal.
Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology.
What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning.
Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience.
The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain.
When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture.
Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol.
The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image.
Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler.
Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself.
In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions.
What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality.
Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way.
Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.