Recursive Formula Of Returning by Prospero2013

The core of the Sun ran out of fuel,
collapsed under its own weight,
and formed a black hole.

In my culture the existence of this returning was accepted as fact.
I died to one level to be reborn at another level.
I will now improvise the narrative that was my life up to this point.
This may be only one version of many.

I was born with a long, red birthmark on my head.
Right at the beginning I met the blackness.
In this suffering darkness, I was left to search for meaning.
I found that active information was present everywhere
distributed in a continuous universal field.

I had to separate myself from the herd mentality.
Beliefs are the moldable raw material of the psyche,
external rewards reinforce this mind-control trance.
I had to change my level of game play.
Only that which has been properly separated can be rightfully joined.
I had to retrain my eyes, ears, and heart to comprehend the intuitive language of music.
My consciousness learned to interpret itself as a process of world simulation.

Music is a gnosis, a way of knowing.
Music is an accelerated pathway,
a recursive formula of returning.
Through music, I confronted the chaos, the darkness and the depth.

I am likened to the black raven, for that is the wages of my sin,
a process of separation, transformation and integration that cannot be reduced,
a multi-level unification of microcosm with macrocosm.
Music amplified and accelerated this process,
music synthesized noumenon and phenomenon.
No other work was required to perform but to keep up the musical fire.

I am now an infirm and weak old man therefore am I shut up in a cave,
the man I once claimed to be went missing four years ago.
My friends and family thought I may have strayed into hostile territory nearby
as sometimes happens.
They knew the village I was from, so they went there.
Death had made me weak so they only found my flesh and bones
they could only remember the name I had in the past,
a deliberate attempt to grasp immortality.

But in music I had recognized the subjective/objective as fundamental
so I fly now without wings on the blackness of the night and the brightness of the day.
My expansive fire is Solar by nature and I am called the Son of the Dead Sun.
I am now a blast of light from a dying star.