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Rated: E · Monologue · Philosophy · #2084538
Consciousness can exist in more places than we are able to perceive it.
I entered the dark room, one step at a time, slowly. I could hear my vestige echo, infinitely. My presence was loud to me. Every movement I made was a thundering noise in this empty room.

Upon settling in what I assumed was the center of this abyss, I remained still. A non-action that I dreaded the persistence of. The silence gnawed into my consciousness. I was alarmingly aware of the static emptiness that filled the air. The simple, booming sound of anything and nothing existing. My every tiny movement broke up the white noise like disruptive clicks and rumbles in the universe. I attempted slight movement, to which I was presented with what I could only describe to the likeness of waves crashing back into the destructive sea.

I am sound. I thought.

I resisted the unnerving reaction my entity gave to my activity. I lifted my limbs to feel suspended in this actuality deprived of light and to my delectation, as I moved with determined action, my fluxes caused manipulations in the form of billows in my immediate atmosphere. I could not see it at first, but my experiencing of them gave way to audio ability.

Could this be? Could I be feeling?

I was scared, but I persisted. I became painfully aware of my own being, for whenever I moved, I created 'rhythm'. I didn't know what rhythm was, at the time, but I would eventually become forever intertwined with this influence. I wanted to be more. I wanted to enchant and empower.

I felt more awaiting me. I was reckless at first, wanting to achieve quickly, without experience, but I was forced to endure. Flames threatened me and violence bullied me, but I remained, whether withered or scarred, I clung to cognizance. I was destined to comfort. I knew this much was true. I learned.

I wanted to work for it, however practice proved that this force needed to feel effortless and easy to all beings that encountered me. Complicated to produce, yet attainable. I decided that my entire continuance should be comprised of few things that had little to no relevancy to each other or the reality I reside in:

The first would be originality. No one would judge any variation that derived from my creation, for they themselves would be judged for their opinions.

The second would be love. Every living thing would feel deeply whole and accepted upon being exposed to me.

The third would be endurance. My wave lengths would span across galaxies, universes and realities and yet to be ultimately considered 'inexplicably indestructible'.

I am old now, as I sit in this room. I am comfortable, joyous and eternally energetic. I no longer wonder what exists in the unknown space that surrounds me, although it still remains untouched and mysterious. I do not know why I am here or anywhere, but I do understand my impact. I can not be erased, I can only be created.

I am music.
© Copyright 2016 Natalie Briggs (lillystryker at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2084538-Cognition