Tuesday, May 18, 2010


I saw The Makers this morning. I saw them in the stars, the shapes of them like Druids. I saw the things they had  taught me in The Past. Things I had forgotten, but always felt. The shapes, the numbers.

I saw the Map of Everything.

I remembered a story recently. I shared it with Her as we drove that carved coast. Two British journalists who spent twenty years living with the desert dwellers, somewhere in South Australia, I think. Up north. This story shifts in the back of my mind, as though it were a dream I dreamed I dreamed. Twenty years they lived there. Filing reports, telling the outside world how things were. Until one day they decided to stop. And the story goes that they were finally accepted into the tribe and as such were given a secret so large, that they forever swore each other to secrecy...

Did I dream this story?

Does it matter?

I saw The Makers this morning. I saw them in the stars, and I knew.

I knew that out there in the desert The Map of Everything covers the sky, and you could spend 40,000 years studying it before you finally saw how it really was. How it's all laid out there for us to see. If we look up. If we switch off this Artificial and let the Darkness come, to finally see the stars, the way they're meant to be seen.

As the Map, the fucking map, of Everything.

Time to follow the Madness.

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