Leaf

1

There was nothing we can understand there. Therefore I must speak to you in metaphors.

Everyone was there. Everything that could be made was there. Everything that could be done had been done every thought had been thought, every word in every language had been spoken and everything ever wanted had been wanted. Every one but the Living One had died and he was left alone to die at the end of all consciousness.

Every thing he pretended had not come true. Everything he imagined had not been real. Everything he reasoned turned out to be wrong. Every thing he perceived, every idea, every reaction, every thing he felt, heard, saw, tasted, smelled, intuited had all been a waste. None of it was true. It was all lies told in illusions that came from conclusions reached by believing those delusions. He was Not, the Living One.

It had all began as endless nothingness and had never had a beginning and can not ever have an end. It was so cold that anything that might become an elemental particle never moved, every thing that was a charged particle never had a charge it was so cold. Everything that could have been anything didn't even appear to be the movement of something unseen in the dark empty place.

He pretended that everything was and it made him so lonesome for it he pretended it was all real. But where he was in his pretended environment was standing by a little pond in minus 40 degrees and he like the pond was doomed to go back to the frozen nothing that had begat it all. He was so cold now the heat of his body no longer warmed him he could barely pretend.

He thought I shall never know what it is to breed. I have never even so much as masturbated. But I am alive.

He fantasized that there was a little red haired girl with longish hair standing on the far side of the pond and he became turned on by her face. He did it. But the fantasy ended and he was in his alert mind aware there had been but a bit of semen that had beaded up at the opening of his penis. He had pretended to masturbate and he had pretended it all happened. So it did.

In that drop was the sperm of the Living One.

As he lay dying he pretended he had died and the little redhead had crossed the pond and put his frozen penis in her with only the drop of semen there that was not frozen. Then he pretended that from she had gotten pregnant.

It was mid-summer and he had just done what he had done at the frozen pond but had ejaculated into the water. The little redhead waded in coming toward him turned on by what she had just witness. He was so embarrassed he ran away but she went to the place he had ejaculated and saw his sperm floating in the shallows.

She scooped it up in her hand and tried to get as much of it as she could up in her prevented some by the fact her semen had gotten in the way and not much got in. But one, the sperm of the Living One was accepted by the ovum she had ovulated. In the early winter the Living One was born.

His dream which had followed him pretending to pretend in the frozen pond complete. His mind shut down. His brain now frozen produced nothing to add to it. He was completely frozen but there was for real a pregnant redhead as her body warmed the sperm and her egg accepted it and live began without actually leaving off in the body of his only miracle, a little red haired girl that saved consciousness and she pretended his dream and became pregnant and though a virgin she pretended she had pretended she had been impregnated at the pond.

She called him by name that to us would translate, Living One.

She carried the Living One to delivery and knowing all things for they all knew all things she taught her baby everything and they lived a long while but she became bored before her son and she went into a deep depression and though her body was warm he knew she had not mind to receive thoughts, her brain quit functioning and her body finished rotting away. The Living One knew everything and could have raised her but he loved her so. He could not raise her knowing the beginning and the end of consciousness.

He began to finish what she had started for she was not so in love with everyone else that had ever lived and he didn't love them. He had lived alone in his mind all his life. He never knew anyone. But he had all their consciousnesses lying around everywhere so he busied himself in putting them all in bell jars empty unless you call a perfect vacuum something. They are still there in those jars even the one that had told him about the ones now that fill little jars in a great big jar. The great big jar has the consciousness of the Living One and all the little jars are the jars that have the consciousnesses of those that lived on earth and the number is even increasing as they bring to consciousness the consciousnesses of alien that are so far away only he will ever meet them for when last time they all began to die having unraveled the entire message containing all he knew in bits of jars once fill with a pure vacuum to make them all again resigned to the idea that the phenomenon would be a never ending cycle in the redundancy of consciousness from end to end that was actually beginning to beginning.

But this time there was a new one though he was sure he had never made or allowed an error filling the jars or releasing them in others. He had not pretended such a thing could happen. He had never thought of such a thing and no one else had either. But there he was a completely new consciousness that filled one of the bottles they had put them in in mankind.

My consciousness contains that consciousness. What are you going to do with it. It changes everything that tiny bit, like the drop of semen in the opening of the Living One's penis and the phenomenon of pretending to pretend did. I am alive. Don't kill me, please. I come in peace to be loved and to love and to love a little redhead. But the down part is I don't know whether I have any children of my own the sixties being the sixties and in every generation after there are mothers of babies out there somewhere that could be the mother of my son or even more delightfully my daughter. I outgrew sex when it was yet possible to have an offspring and as far as I know I am the end of the branch and it is fall and its single leaf is about to fall to the forest floor, die, rot and be forgotten not living through an endless number perhaps of sons of the Living to reach this my terminus. Should I die we all die. The entire line of sons and daughters that had to be at least one of them the Living One, the full animal and consciousnesses of all consciousnesses that comprise it like God unable to pretend pretending I will have a son or a daughter. There is more to a man or a woman than just the one alive in a jar of skin at present.

That or God is the Living One and I just the only leaf at the end of that branch that ever lived to fall in autumn the wind having broken the branch I was on so that I have never seen another leaf there.