PROSE: Untitled by David Thomas

David Thomas is the author of a novella and dozens of comic strip stories, screen plays and radio plays. His work has been published in the UK, America, Europe and Japan. He lives and works in Cardiff, Wales.

This piece is based on the scientific study of near death experience, not purely materialistic science but the true study of the unknown. 

Image: Barnett Newman – Adam (1951)

I find my final breath is made with much the same impulse as the first. My heart takes note of this and slows its finger beating beat to a closing, easing stop. The battle is over.  A murmur of perception then goes running off panic stricken down the closing corridors of the brain. I know its dark shadowy figure all too well, and for the last time I ask that papier-mâché ego the question that has haunted mankind ever since it first put two and two together. Why? Its deafening silence gives way to an emotion that’s not all that surprising, and for the first time I care not for this body and its fickle, tailored personality. It’s not important now. Time too is having the same implication, as if it were someone else’s dream, someone else’s problem. With a flamenco twirl I peel quickly away from the meaty vessel. The thought of even knowing if I will miss that skin and bone below seems trivial and trite. What comes next comes through a vast uplifting tunnel of flickering external dimensions. A dazzling spectrum of twisting white angles that evolves into a silhouette that is neither man nor woman, but something far cleverer, far sweeter. What else could it be but undiluted love! Its affection brings with it colours of beauty that are fertile and perfumed, that shines with an enduring mirror ball grace. It slowly reaches out a slender dazzling hand of sunrise light to me, and with what little I sense of myself, of what little I slowly, drip by drip, perceive as spirit, I find myself reaching out towards it. We touch like the wild sparks of melting iron ore as we find ourselves not alone amidst this spotlight stage of mystery. Love then says softly to me. Would you really like to know why?  I grin with the reverence that only the foolish and wise know how. And so begins a lesson of journeys and degrees that bubbles hot into a vapor of memory pages that have long since been forgotten in the Library of my behavior. I am plunged into the baptizing imagines of my actions and reactions. A Rubicon of passions, a juggernaut of emotions that spells out loves un-judged judgment that it’s really ok, what was: Was. What is: Is.  A line is then crossed. I feel no shame at my past failings, how could I? Love never ever plays the blame game.  From the corner of my new remembered senses I notice that the pearl earth is below me, naked and clear as a raindrop amidst the echo of spineless space. Then as if just for me, a sound comes like vast beating wings across the planet’s twilight horizon, a back draft of buzzing voices from around that earthy womb. I hear every tongue and verse, every slang and curse, every whisper and moan, all chattering away like a hail storm upon a thousand tin roofs of mankind’s fleeting endeavors. I recognize instantly their cutting loss, their bloated gains, their lusted confusion, their each and every blinded emotional step. I feel it all echoing against my morphing perception with the merest of flutters. We go a little closer hand in hand like wide eyed children towards a summer fair. Swirling like clouds we touch the outer atmosphere and with a gentle hand that could move the very concept of concept love; smiles and points too something far below. At first I think it is electrified storms raging the deserts with sharp blue fingers, but its sweet soft voice prompts my feelings to look harder, so I reach out with attentive logic and let the image into what were once my eyes and instead see perceptions and understandings join like bacteria, hear disclosure and imagination blossom with the intimacy of lovers. And so there before me I see a map of vast global networks blanketing the earth in a tapestry of flexible knowledge, over-flowing like Storm drains as continents start shrugging off the old ghost’s of borders and custom. With a whisper of ice smooth wonderment that only the bedazzled know how, love then tickles me with its voice. Do you see its beginning to perceive itself? I can’t grasp at first the full answer, it’s too simple, to plain and yet there it was the riddle of humanity boiled down to its single most naked element. Glittering like city lights upon shivering tidal waters. They were beginning to gel into fusion, even in their dazed bewilderment; instinct was feeding their senses closer to the answer. Mankind was moving towards a grand fine tipping point that would flip the paradigms of their entrenched egos. The insight came to me with a roaring rush that lingered with waves of certainty. It was thrilling to know it, to truly grasp its inner core, that Mankind was and always has been simply one, and once this was recognized it would flourish into a singularity of perfect arrival. Love’s eyes glow like the dawning of mountains as the thought takes root in me and with a poet’s wink it sings. Thats not all of it. With a graceful arch it then waves out towards the great cosmos and I see what I was truly meant to see, truly meant to know: That out there amidst the endless stars was the same vast rush of gathering knowledge, the same faults, the same desires, the same inch by inch reaching for the secret of secrets. It was all the same wonderful reflection. Every galaxy, every planet, every life form, all rushing back and forth with their own orbits and valued dimensions, all working towards the great unveiling. There was no question to life, no answer in death, because the two were in fact one. All bending and twisting with honeycombed dimensions, all twitching with intuitive horny instinct, all slowly waking from this reality dream and what this love was really showing me was that I was never even alive to start with, not even dead to end with. Because that life I had lived was simply a drop from a vast ocean of re-emerging, unchanging energy, a moebius dance that is the central heart of all roads in this crystal fractal garden. And somewhere in all that magnificent calculation, there was me like a rabbit staring into its rounded infinite headlights. I knew then what was coming next, the psyche always does. We then touch and crackle with soft welcoming goodbyes. I mouth love’s words before it speaks them. Youre just going forward into the place you were before. We part then like a mother and son at the moment of birth and the notion of God never crosses my notion of soul, how could it? It is everything within me, nothing without me. I am but returning data to the unfolding refolding consciousness. I smile with a finely tuned sense of dignity as this spirit returns to that eternal murmuration. The answer to my question of why has finally been answered.