Custards or Jellies

Once there was a baker who filled all his treats with either custards or jellies. When it came to custard, he could whip up a custard to any degree of creaminess or fluff. There wasn’t a sad piece of dough that he couldn’t liven up with his custard as he imagined vast tranquil seas of custard upon which his customers could find safe passage through their day. But then there was the jelly. When he made jelly, it sparkled so brilliantly that it glistened with an irresistible shine that drew people to not only eat his treats but gaze upon the infinity contained in them. The baker dreamed of its suspended seeds as insights hanging in the plasma of a consciousness supreme and wished that his customers partook of the jelly and at once released the insight to nourish their minds. But the jelly was harder to make and required more of his attention to perfect its depth. Eventually, he learned to appreciate the custard as much as the jelly, for the custard filled out what the jelly could not.

Aperture of a Transcendental Moment

A geyser forms a camera obscura with its steam. In a pocket of time, I fell behind the scenes of what I was chasing after. The aperture of my camera pointed at the pinhole of sunlight and its reflection. What I had been chasing disappeared and I found myself somewhere aside from desire and circumstance – somewhere reflecting the smallness of purpose while magnifying the greatness of existence. As the image slipped away from the steam, only a trace fixed the reference to a memory. What shined through the pinhole illuminated the positioning of the subject and shed light on the futile condition of catching what cannot really be caught. And then the moment unfolded into an object-less arena. A reflexive space formed into a fractal pocket. As if I were in a glass ball within others. Looking at a loose iteration of my activity in another sphere. Inside my camera and outside of my body, floating through a hole in the sky.