A pink-and-orange scarf. The head of a long-eared god (all the better for hearing prayers). The umbilical of a long-dead pumpkin. Straw coolie hats worn by acorns before they fell. The base of a table lamp.
Every horizontal surface and every sparse section of wall is an altar, an offering to the senses and sensibilities, something to provoke and evoke and invoke. Blank space enforces a rhythm, a musical rest in synaesthetic terms.
These things we invent in collusion and conjunction, these properties we nail together, looking for the synergisms to pull them, and therefore us, to higher heights. These are the high-flying cranes to whom we pray for intercession. If they fly high, are they not between us and the Almighty? If they fly closer, won't He hear them before us? Or can we build a tower directly to heaven and deliver our messages--our desires and criticisms--in person?
There is no angel or prophet who has not had Satan tamper with their respective messages as soon as they express a desire that can be twisted. It falls to the source of all knowledge and wisdom to repair the damage of vanity. And why not? That is what the Almighty is good for.
If we do not create our vanities, our whims, our fantasies of ourselves, we will express nothing and He will have nothing to correct.
Posted by Laszlo Q. V. St-J. Xalieri