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The Alchemy of Rose Gold

Birth of a Color (1,111 words)

By Lolly Paige LennoxPublished 2 years ago Updated 2 years ago 5 min read
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The Alchemy of Rose Gold
Photo by Ami Lisk on Unsplash

It all comes back to this place you know you couldn’t have possibly been before but you miss ever so dearly, yet you’ve never been sure where you got the notion of it ever really starting. Sometimes you hear a song, or see a person, or just remember the good times and suddenly all of those things are all happening in the same moment–and I mean it’s all happening, at once. The sounds of the music and the faces and the events, all at once. Not jumbled up or misheard, but just happening. It’s transcendent! It’s practically a feeling. But at the same time, it never happened so it doesn’t truly exist and you don’t know what a feeling is.

Well, it does exist. That’s where I live. I live in nothingness.

It’s not exactly nothing. Common misconception. It is sort of like the space where time isn’t moving. Like there is no time at all. It’s an exact parallel of your own reality, but at the same time… It’s not. What an absolute paradox. Trying to tell you about it is enough of a trip as it is, let alone getting there. But when you do, you never leave. You forget where you are, sometimes, sure. But you never leave. It is all the happiness of life without the existentialism that comes with thinking of the past. Similar to nostalgia but for different reasons. The catacombs of the mind are alive with the history of life.

You could consider me a time traveler, if you prefer. For the absence of time means all exists at the same time, without chronologicity. The separation of time gives life its true-to-you form. What you perceive to be objects are floating atoms moving incredibly fast in front of your face. Hard surfaces are mere illusions to what you believe life is. And this is because you live on a linear schedule. You lay time flat out on its face. I bet it is a good time to enjoy every moment like that: for what it truly is. I, on the other hand, prefer a life different. I prefer the infinite. I traveled your roads before and I thought that was enough. Just a one time thing because this? What could be better than all of it?

I suppose all the joy in the universe can’t keep loneliness at bay forever. You know what I missed? I missed people. I missed all the strangeness of being human. But observing it gives its own satisfaction. Just knowing they are there and doing things–questioning things, experimenting even on themselves. But that means they cause bodily harm to one another. Other humans. I just thought that surely was not the life for me.

But of course, I was lonely.

Suddenly, the eternal flame was beginning to dim. I could still see the colors but the feeling was different. There was suddenly all of this sudden a feeling that I left something out. I could be content in the moment of infinite until I remember something else.

I remembered the rose. The symbol of love and feminine divine. The reprisal of spring, always in season, slow to bloom, never changing. Every color under the moon for any occasion and every mood. It made me think of romance and how much power there is in laughter. Suddenly I thought of first dates or extraterrestrial encounters. I thought of old love birds and first timers and all of the movies and 24 hour diners…

I remembered how to drive and the dreams of being in the passenger seat to a ghost ride. Back when I didn’t know how to travel time. When I thought nothing of any greater purpose to life. When I knew so little and did so much. I thought of the rose as the symbol of life. I remembered the music and the feeling of dice rattling in my hands like I’m about to play my cards no matter what happens. Would you call that excitement?

Suddenly, I get a vision. I am in the inbetween section of what you think life is. It was like the desert but it was a place where things are created. There is no creator of other volition. We are the entrance, and we are the exit. We are the show and music.

But I remembered the music. I’m transported. I am among the sands of time. I can hear the time loop rushing by yet I also stand in silence. It was where I could call out and say anything I wanted. But all I could think about was the rose.

Suddenly, I see a rose blooming. It is planted, blooming–deeply rooted. It is the perfect definition of a rose, and it feels like all of it. It made me so alive the way it resonated with all these facets of life. I was so blown away by its singular beauty, its moment in history that would forever be a timeless entry in an infinite existence. I thought about crying because the awe is so outstanding.

I become gold. Lustrous, riches of gold. I am blankets of the sands that sparkle with time. I am the clock and the gadgets inside. I feel like the sun as I continue to shine.

Suddenly, I am liquid. Rivers of illumination rush to the ridges of my mind yet it is the extended cosmos of reality.

Suddenly, it is flooding. The gates were always open. I am beautiful in every regard. I am everywhere. It is gold. The roses are drowning in my illustrious vision. I solder them. I become it.

Everything is flashing but is not to be seen. Everything I once loved was coming back to me. The roses grew into their new flesh of golden prisms. They bloomed one more time to be etched forever. I melded into the rose, the gold of my world becoming the shape of every petal and thorn. I grew taller, I grew more. I turned inside-out several times before I was reborn.

And I would become it. I would be the rose encased with gold until the two became flesh. I returned to your Earth as it were, but with a new vision of reflection to experience the world. I decided if I should exist in linear time then I will occupy infinite space. Even if I’m going to be in one place, I will be everywhere. I will be the things you love. I will be your good taste. I will be the sparkle on your dullest days. I will be everything, for I am here for eternity…

Thought I might stay a while.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Lolly Paige Lennox

I am known for my gifts in Tarot and the dead, the Dead, being grateful and psychedelic and a little strange in the head. Sort of a beatnik, like a harlot, or a bard, and a sorcerer. Definitely a nerd.

Not a professional - Probably an expert

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