Chapter 1 

I always liked saying when I was down on Earth, “we are all in the universe now,” and I meant it as an initiation into our new situation down there. We were trapped in a way, we were figuring that out. We congratulated ourselves on describing the nature of the trap but regardless, those of us who could feel knew we were rats running wild in very predictable paths long figured out by whomever. We were trapped and rushing through something we’d never thought about before. It was us we were it who can explain the inexplicable? We got lodged up in the future someplace meeting with our own projections out in the inexplicable, entertaining ourselves with tales of conquest even though we were trapped like the proverbial rat. I would think about it, laugh and then try to enjoy my day the best I could. I wanted to fly spaceships as a kid like science fiction heroes. I wanted to levitate and buzz along without hindrance. I wanted to fire laser guns and meet beautiful women from Jupiter. I never thought of the glories of the past whatever they were. So now we rush through the inexplicable I can see it now but when I was fastened down there like the other rats it meant a great deal to me.

It was either silence or poetry I thought. But what is silence? What is poetry? I had nothing profound to say and began to figure out why I had that thought. Why would I think it was either silence or poetry? Well, I had a prejudice against noise that was certain. Noise had driven me from the city. But everywhere I went there were giant noises, sometimes a jackhammer in the street or a jet flying an approach to the airport. Silence explained things in its own way. Poetry was just wild celebration for being alive disciplined by the need to be self-ruling. It was that tension that created music and color.

David Eide
January 24, 2014