After the first sleep comes the second morning,
the realm of meditative calm,
gifts we forgot we left ourselves,
in the time that time forgot,
in the lands we left behind.
In Tibet, the most skilled monks cover
great distances using the mantra
of the Lung Gom, a rhythmic matrix
leap. i use a car or my
memory to achieve the same.
As a child i captured fireflies from
my grandmother's back yard,
holding them captive in a jar
until they proved themselves,
making me their Gom Jabbar.
Now later along i feel the vibration
of life in my car as i drive.
i have no wish to synchronize
with it. My rebellious days
are mostly over, or few in number.
My subconsciousness has accepted
my inevitable death. That is
alignment enough, nature's Gom
Jabbar to my neck, regardless
of what i prove before:
like the fireflies in the jar...
like the death rattle of my car...
like the memories i sought,
struggling against union,
fearing the Gom Jabbar,
mouthing the Lung Gom.
Lung Gom => the mantra used by Tibetan Buddhist monks that supposedly enables them to leap across open plains (Matrix style). It is said that if someone interrupts them, they are shaken to pieces by the break in their rhythm, and that if they use the mantra too often, they lose the ability to remain on the ground and have to weigh themselves down.
Gom Jabbar => in the Dune series by Frank Herbert: the deadliest poison in the universe, administered by means of a needle ***** mounted on a thimble. It is used as a punishment for failing the test of humanity (meaning that the loser is not human, but animal).
