Imagine us.
Flesh and bone operating under artificial constructs of meaning that are born in the mind.  

Imagine this. 
The perceptions of the mind across a period of 50 years. 

Over time, the streams of textures and patterns that the mind may create become more and more confined within the outlines of logic. Within the outlines of reality. As our increasing comprehension of the world tends to anchor the mind to the ground, it begins to amass power through knowledge at the expense of imagination. Thus, if we consider knowledge to represent power and imagination to represent freedom, our minds are the most powerful prisoners to roam the galaxy.
Eventually, priorities begin to shift. Time becomes money and fatigue boils the mind in its own juices. All that ultimately remains in terms of mental travel, is a linear road with the occasional downward spiral or sharp turn. 

Imagine this. 
Imagination bleeds. Maybe because of the very nature of understanding itself. Because something that is alien to us can be perceived in countless different ways, almost as a one-fits-all jigsaw piece that the mind can slot anywhere. It seems that this is the beauty of things beyond our grasp… That they could be anything. 

Imagine us.
Returning to the peak of our imaginative capabilities. Before the colourways in our synapses turned a little less bright. An infant placed in his cot. The slow moving circle above his head sounding lullabies to guide him to sleep. The images in his mind, the pinnacle of imagination...
There is no logic here. There are no outlines. There is only liberty. Neurons fire millions of patterns that melt into one another while abundant textures curve around the brain waves. 
The infant’s emotional state directly bounces off the images. He moves from wonder, to confusion and then to fear. His mind propels itself into other worlds, all amidst the background of faded words and sounds that he does not yet understand. He dips his thoughts in hints of orange and purple, and the excitement of these colours seems to overwhelm his sense of danger in being alone. He even begins to enjoy it. Hopping along the floury sands of an island of wonder. Dancing under the golden sun of infinity. 
And then, things become a little slower. His mind gently sways along the waves of an iridescent sea. The voices and sounds return, but drift into the haze of intertwined images. Gentle blue bubbles move along the nerve impulses sent by his brain. They fill his entire body, preparing it to float unconsciously into the valley of dreams. The air then saturates itself in glitter. His eyelids become heavy. And another adventure spills over into his sleep. 

Maybe that’s what is often missing from a mind hell-bent on evolving throughout time. The ability to unlearn what it already knows, even for a moment, to allow itself to be completely free.

Imagine that.

Imagine thiS

I am not my fingerprints or my appearance.
I am not my history.
I am something else entirely.
The intangible tangibility of an essence.
If all emotion, thought and action stem from the mind, then I am in there.
But the cerebellum or cortex are not where you'll find me.
I am the spectral membrane that wraps around that machine.
I am the inexplicable compass of this existence.
I am the soul.
I am me.

Imagine thiS

Georjaay