The Baroquesque Artist

The Baroquesque Artist…

I was an artist of a true sort. I thought. Which meant I had to face myself as a character in a poem, shaped by a plot that was a mirror-tale. I saw myself in this poetic world and it – the poem – reflected back all its utterances from the scenes of the mirror . I could have stayed in that image for ever. But alas! I suddenly dropped the mirror I was in - to the floor. It fell just out of my hand like that! And? It broke into seven hundred pieces. The mirror I mean. And in those broken pieces I began facing myself, like in a baroqish way. In a style I never before could have thought of. Now I was there, dissociated, perhaps free, perhaps bound to see myself in several broken glass. And as broken as the glass of the mirror was as broken was I from now on. Separated and odd and twisted. In any direction I looked I saw myself and the plots came to me like a million dollar film from God knows where. I was a multi-millionaire. I was a plot seeker, but nay, more than that. I was a plotted person somehow. I was a poet that was transformed into – gosh into what???

The several parts of the mirror now swallowed my intentions, like I was more than a dual force. The microcosm of my spheres turned itself into a macrocosmos. It was weird and surreal. It was perhaps horrific. The several stories danced into my brain with swollen appetites. I was consumed by it all...In this way I saw and saw and saw. Yet I saw once again and again and again, all over the place…

I saw, suddenly, all my past lifes and all my karma. It was sort of reflected as stories from previous lifes. Each one reflected in every broken piece of the mirror. I was a duke, in love with the chamber maid. Impossible love was that story. I was a black warrior a long time ago in southern Africa. I was very proud and extremely popular. It was a shining piece of glass that told me all this. Weird, still somehow true. I had lived once in Amsterdam and knew Rembrandt. He had painted me nude, but I tore apart the painting, just because I did not want anyone to find that picture. I tore it into several pieces and all those small pieces of the canvas now stood apart from the reflection of the light. Funny story it was. I saw myself living in London as a prostitute. It was a horrible life and the kids on the streets where I lived scorned me. Old people mocked me. I went to the priest and he refused to pray for me. At that moment I decided that if I ever came back in another life I would have all my revenge prepared for each and everyone. I saw tear-drops on the broken glass. And those tears came alive like fragments from my own bodily essence. Yeah I could see life´s essence and the meaning with each and every life. I could understand why I had been so sad bad and mad in this life. And as every piece of the broken mirror talked to me I could slowly gather up the meaning and cause and reason why I was, why I am, the one I am today. My disorientation in my life meant that karma had to make me play out all that I had once missed. Every story could sooner become a rare unit to make me into a person who could understand it all.

Then I saw my past life in Sweden. I was a priest who loved poetry. And I had even here a mistress who helped me in the household. She was pure and kind. Gosh! That story came to me with rainbow colours, like splashing its reflective foam into puny atoms. I mean the colours were brought out by an atomic logic, like a binary thought that made opposites collide, smash and bang and out of it all the materia of life was shown to me. That all the broken pieces of glass and its reflections was a mirror from the spiritual world. It was mystery, yet alive and logic and coherent. Each and every story I once had lived through was connected to one another, and the meaning of true life was to see how stories could fit into what you dreamt or thought of. There was a kind of philosophy in each part and as soon as I could bring them all together I had truly understood my karmic lesson. When the unit of each story was brought out from me I could begin reflecting out my own true spirit. So being broken into pieces meant that I had to find the quiz of life´s own meaning. The clue of why I had to feel seperated from life´s best visions. Yea...I could see it all…

And between each story of each life there was a kind of atomic glue. It kind of held every part together. So even if I had once felt wildly seperated from my own life it was an atomic something that brought each piece together. Atomic spheres down to the puniest spot up to the galaxes was hold together by this atomic glue. Between life and life there was quantum leaps that hold together opposites. Opposites that had seemed to me once like paradoxes I could not overcome. To be a fool or a wise man in past life? What was it all about. ??? In the atomic quantum spheres all and everything was stories within storis within yet another story. My life was just about held together between materia and energy, the two binary projects that all life was about. If I tried very hard I could see a story in a plant, a stone, a chrystal being, a fly, a gnat, an animal, a living being up to the spiritual forefathers who roamed around somewhere…

All at once I fell asleep. In my dreams I heard several voices talking to me. I saw and I heard. By an instant of a brilliant second I saw all broken pieces coming together again. It was just about as magic as magic could go. All was whole and united again. The reflections from the mirror had been a kind of illusion. And as I dreamt this lucid dream I knew it all. Dark and light was one. Different lifes was just one and a whole unit. I woke up and there I saw the mirror whole again on the floor beside my bed. A miracle I thought. Must write it down I said to myself….

I looked now deep into the mirror. Who was I? Several different persons? Several individuals that was seperated? Or was I a reflection of each story I had lived?

And as I came to look out the window I could hear the wind. ”The answer my friend is blowing in the wind...the answer is blowing….” And I laughed out loud….