NeverEnder – Space Epic Poem / BOOK III / Chapter II / XVII –XXVII


the Archive of Myth bubbles up, Ariadne
is in pain. Time must have a stop. Where
is Monkey? The siege of Candia. Welcome,
refugees. Dog fart, rabbit squeak, God

through Russell Brand. Timelessness,
dream-Shakespeare. Tempest-consciousness,
Know Thyself. All those monsters; Tauros,
deviations. Egoes in broken mirrors.


Ariadne pauses on the screen, the stars
in the image burst out laughing. So bright.
The Archive of Myth on drugs. What an
experience. “When the doors of perception

are cleansed, everything will appear
as it is, infinite” And some do it by
meditation, some by walking, some by
mescaline, some by action, some by


dream. Ariadne, you just go ahead and
push the button. Push the button, goddamit!
Incest, betrayal, abandonment. Lost.
Identity crisis. Monsters are born of

absolute spiritual evil. It exists.
A potent lamia. A curse. Ariadne’s curse.
What is the nature of her curse? Betrayal
of the closest relatives, death by fire.


The gravitational influence of planets
on cells. Electrons, atoms, spiritual
waves. “I need a hero. I want a destiny.
The monster within me. The fiend in the

mirror. The demon inside the child.”
Salvation through action, magic, and
doubt. Fear, heartache. Defeat in victory.
Neurotic patients burst an iron ring around


the heart. Possession is a structural
alteration. Public personalities possessed
by shadows. Possessed by animas. Naming
is reincarnation. Reincarnation of Gods

in planets. Chronos. So too did Chronos
take Uranus unawares. The discarded genitals.
Destruction of civilization by earth-quake.
Destruction of spirituality by multi-verse


shake.Touch, energy transfer. Spiritual
transformation. Zeus is dead. Dead by
transformation. Purification by water.
Cynicism is anti-matter. The Goddess

epiphany: the creation and recreation of
Myth. Cosmic union of all beings. Conflict
is dynamic. 4000 years of history, dealing
with threats. Deconstruction of stories.


Palaces of creation. Centres of Myths.
Myth as civilization. Everything flows.
Magic energy stays, it accumulates.
Holiness by creation. Ariadne returns

to Labrys harbour. She clings to form
but a wooden Buddha cannot go through
fire. She’s anima-possessed. Charged.
She cannot stay. I send you unto this


world as sheep amidst the wolves. I
don’t want to leave, she says. Earth
quakes are the end. Immortality is
real. You just have to push the damn

button! “I realize now that all my
existence is a delusion. There is nothing
but this island in the sea, Labrys Harbour.”
Way before and after everything. Time


is an illusion. Waking up to the timeless
island. Put on the kettle. The multi-verse
is compressed. All time and all happening
at once. The gravitational mass of a body

is equal to its inertial mass. The displace
ment of spectral lines towards the red
can be traced. The potential is there.
Gravitational, time collapse. History


and identity are annulled. The X looms.
Everything is simultaneously true. Let
go of the meat. Karma will dissolve.
We are such stuff as wormholes are made

on. The Archive of Myth is palace of
memory. It collapses into nothing. “…
of seed-time or harvest, of the reapers
bending over the corn, or the grape


gatherers threading through the vines,
of the grass in the orchard made white
with broken blossoms or strewn with
fallen fruit: of these we know nothing,

and can know nothing.” From such profundity,
the depth of the Well, the length of the
multi-verse, the scope of consciousness.
Ariadne is in bed. She’s asleep. She dreams.