The writings of Hunter Coch

Serial: The Lotus and the Rose, Chapter 4

Lotus and the Rose
Chapter 4, The Doorway to Duality

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

I stand at the door, remove my shades and stare into the emptiness, and I see. Void is god, think; another step and into the arch. All around etched in stone, esoteric phrases in arcane languages I read with the old sight: a mantra.

“I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me.”

Dropping, kneeling like prayer, the mantra is spoken again, and again, and again. Within the arch, at the edge of madness, my heart repeating the spell in continuation, sweat delivers onto my brow. The mantra, mantra, mantra; repetition and accuracy increases with an echoing of the intonations. I am ready to release.

I”I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me.”

The echoes reflect each utterance, sound from side to side, becoming harmony. Each point of reflection a mouth becomes. Each point like the song of a monk. A mouth chants the mantra moments after the previous starts its eleven syllable song.

I am becoming the word, I am the word, all things began with it, and all things will end for it. All things come from the logos and all things go to the way.

“I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me,
I see the chaos, the chaos takes me.”

I am the chaos, the chorus takes me. I touch it, the cohesion is taken away. I taste it, cool moisture turns to dry heat. I am vaporous air, bringing awareness, dissipating into clarity. I taste it, dry heat turns to cool moisture. I touch it, cohesion forms. I was the chaos, the chorus took me, and now I stand between duality; two trees stand on a hill above the slumbering city.

I was created in a time when the first cities were being born.

* * *

On top the largest foot hill lining the coastal city, two old trees stand, watching life.

The hour in the night has come. A loud voice came to me one day. The night, moist; fog sweeps the city. Only the tops of the tallest building rose above the mists with the two treed hill, stars high above, and a full moon with a ring; an eye looking down. What are you doing?

A woman sits between the two trees, black of skin and clack eyes in a pure white dress. She looks to the moon in admiration and subconscious prayer. A devout Catholic, the black bone crucifix on a silver chain, lying between the onyx breasts. Her hands raise to hold the orthodox symbolism, held now in the palm of both hands, tightly over her heart; eyes to the universe above.

Night of life, a star falls from the west above the misty city. Am I alone? A glow of fiery light and the illumination fades; horror and wonder leaps into the young woman as she kneels in prayer to god, both hands still holding the cross but now palm on palm, finger tips touching her crown. Am I alone?

A moment passes.

“God?” She asks in submissive curiosity.

Night of death, a star falls from the east above the misty city. Am I alone? A glow of fiery light and the illumination fades; horror and wonder leaps into the young woman as she kneels in prayer to god, both hands still holding the cross, still palm on palm, finger tips touching her crown. Did it hurt?

“God”, she now states, “would this be your time?” No answer came. It hurt good. Disappointed, even without expectation of reply.

She wanted to be married to god, living in a monastery far to the north, (she cried) but . . . “I see the chaos, the chaos takes me . . . ”

“You don’t have to do that.” She stood up in start to see an old man, well dressed but dirty, small brimmed hat, holding a mysterious cane. “I’m Sal”, he states through violent violet eyes.

He struck her, cane to her head. She falls in fleeting vertigo. Sal exposes the blade within the cane, then thrusts. I start thrusting. The pristine white dress split from her breasts to her innocence.

Her world spins in vertigo and immobile consciousness; she cries. Helpless to the desires of the ancient man.

Is he man?

And his desires became apparent

“Lola, I found your name in the chaos, and the chaos brought me to you”, and in a toothy grin, “and the chaos has made you mine”, he said while exposing his blade.

He falls on her naked form. Penetration is not allowed. Anger fills the wrinkled face, the weapon is his rage, the blade merely a tool. He thrusts. She starts riding. The pure onyx skin, split from her innocence to breasts. Lola screams a cry of pain that reaches the heavens.

“No”, said a voice from the other side.

“No”, said Sal, rising with a blood spattered face.

“Yes”, rang the other.

And in the place of ancient Sal, a moth fluttering in chaotic patterns towards the city of mist.

“I’m sorry,” said the other with motherly compassion.

Lola looked to the stars with glassy eyes. A third star fell. Her soul raised, the star descended, and in the conjunction an atom reformed. Slow light lit between two trees and expanded. A sound like the song of angels filled the night in a vortex of white shadows; all went into the cut corpse.

Healing came to the skin and stitched the damaged spirit.

All became silent.

Then she spoke, “I forgive you”, and in peaceful slumber soft dew fell to cleanse her soiled skin.

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One response

  1. Pingback: Serial: The Lotus and the Rose, Chapter 3 « Your Predator

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