May 7, 2017 Original Poetry
Coils of Dreaming
©May 7th, 2017
By Vijaya Sundaram
Coiled upon itself, a memory
Buried in a myth, seen in a dream,
The snake slept, tail in mouth.
All that’s happened will happen again,
For the first time, over and over,
And each will be the last.
Amidst this coiling, is the roiling
Of war and peace, outrage and courage,
New beings emerging.
Will we ever see the snake sleeping
Coiled upon itself, always dreaming,
Or will we stab its dream?
And will we uncoil this dreamer’s rest,
And wrest from it the jewel in its head
And when it dies, will we?
We will coil and roil, toil and despoil.
All that came before, will come again.
We shall return, always.
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Tags: #EternalSnake, #Myth-Dream, #OriginalPoetrybyVijayaSundaram, #Ouroboros
Dec 15, 2015 Original Poetry
Ouroboros
(Prompt: Beloved, Poetry, Day 7)
©December 15th, 2015
Vijaya Sundaram
When the stars have burned out
And turned into lumps of coal
Useless, unless sparked into life,
That’s when I might, just might
Leave you.
My beloved, it’s because I have
To light those stars again.
It’ll take some time
Before I return.
An eternity, perhaps, or
Just the time it takes to
Create another, crisper
Tighter Universe, self-contained
Not expanding uselessly —
Such a waste of space
That would be!
Will you forget me
And move on, seeking
The ghost of a memory?
Or will you stick around
And wait, while I tend
To those fires?
Because, you know, beloved,
Ours will always endure.
We journeyed across
Continents of space-time
And burst into this world
Comets from the heart of time
Except that we bent the warp
And weft of space, and time
Bent upon itself, an
Ouroboros weaving itself
Into itself, being born
And unborn,
While we, too, met and
Parted, met and parted,
Knowing we’d meet again.
So, if you’ll wait here, right
By this doorway into that
Other world, I’ll return
From my light-self,
Into this body, and hold
Your hand forever,
And never let go.
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Tags: #Love, #Ouroboros, #Writing 101, Poetry, Beloved, Day 7
May 18, 2014 Original Short Stories
Dark Matters (A Short, Short, Sort-of Science-Fiction Story)
©May 18th, 2014
By Vijaya Sundaram
Calling it a storm would not be enough, DaMaGenie1! thought. It would have to be called “The Storm of the Multiplex Universe.”
DaMaGenie1! had been brewing it expertly for billennia. After all, she had nothing else to do.
She had been born from herself in the depths of a new universe, formed from hydrogen and helium, and, of course, with the usual smattering of oxygen, carbon, nitrogen, silicon, magnesium, neon, iron, sulphur and so on (see chart, courtesy of nasa.gov ).
And then, since she’d been feeling queasy ever since, she collapsed, scattering her elements around her. Wailing, she withdrew into a shell, and drew a circle around herself, forbidding all contact.
Other stars near her found themselves deeply attracted, and paid her homage. She did NOT want them. They flowed towards her, and were never heard from again. She had absorbed them all.
And they died in ecstasy, sinking and sinking in an irregular orbit forever in a howl of light around her, but the rest of the universe could not see them. She laughed, pouring forth darker and darker matter, chewing noisily on the remains of her shining self.
DaMaGenie1! was lonely, that’s what was the matter. She knew it, but she didn’t care.
She created her minions, Dream and Nightmare – and she called upon them, and they came before her, humbly.
Give birth to life! she commanded them harshly. They nodded, mute and resentful at her tone, and went away.
It took them a long time. They hated each other, you see, even though they were twins. And yet, because there was no one else, they came to each other, seething with hatred and burning with unexpressed rage. There was no edict forbidding them their coupling, since there was no one else.
Billennia continued to pass. DaMaGenie1! burned within, with a cold, unrelenting passion, colder than the coldest imaginable thing, still crying in grief and loneliness. The Universe spun around on its axis, getting bigger and bigger, and growing more and more of her siblings, who seemed not to notice that she’d ever been there.
DaMaGenie1! watched, unwinking, coiled, ready to strike. Then, she realized that she could do something. She needed to brew something.
And while she brewed it, she watched stars and planets form. Finally, she noted something on an obscure little planet, which was revolving around an insignificant sun (she disdained it, for she recognized that, despite its strangely quiescent glow which seemed submissive, it was like a bantam rooster, crowing loudly in its little corner, and mounting the darkness. Dream and Nightmare stood aside. They had done their work. It pleased them to see what was coming from it. For a moment, they were unified in a truce).
DaMaGenie1! saw Life. It smelled good. She leaned over and took a deep whiff. Flowers and fruit, dirt and leaves and grass, and babies and young animals, and trees and water and rain. She was pleased.
And then, she saw Death. This made her cry out again. Her rage re-erupted. She recognized it. It was a piece of her that had broken off and made its way into Nightmare, and thence, into this new-formed thing that smelled of leaf-rot and wood-rot, of flesh-rot and grief.
DaMaGenie1! had left off brewing for a while. It was hard being herself, and she had been tricked by her own desire.
Now, she renewed her work. Her brewing became frenzied. She was going to make the “The Storm of the Multiplex Universe,” and it would be of epic, epochal, cosmic proportions.
It was ready now.
DaMaGenie1! opened her mouth wide, and took a big swallow.
The Universe went quiet.
Then, it vanished. And so did she.
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[NOTE: I was inspired by Arthur C. Clarke’s short story titled “siseneG” and an Isaac Asimov short story titled, “The Last Question,” although, of course, my story is different!]
Tags: #Original Short Story, #Ouroboros, #Science Fiction Short Story, dark matter, self-reflexive story, vanishings