I have a vision of these whales
huge, sleek, glistening beasts
moving as if in their natural habitat
but through the air instead;
an expansive room
Aristotle, Socrates, Sophocles, Heraclitus, Plato,
Descartes, Kant, Locke...
they float, these megaton mammals,
yawning and sighing sorrowful whale-songs
with tails flinging forever in slow motion
What should I ask them?
They are the most beautiful things,
perfect giants, wet, seemingly,
although far from real water
Isn't the sky made of water?
To float with these sharp-toothed porpoises
to sing and sigh
they needn't ponder because they already know
When you unknowingly make so many people think, for years upon years,
you continue to live
but in a new sense,
and in a new body and form.
The whales sing what they have been
singing for hundreds of years,
kept in constant motion
in their sea-air-sanctuary.
I am Ai,
goddess of my own private world that doesn't exist.
I am a pirate, a lover of birds,
a lover of whales, a lover of philosophers
reincarnated as flying whales.
I am to find this sanctuary where the great old minds are
and ask them not the purpose of life
but why everyone keeps trying to find it so.
They are enlightened
they are orcas
and they are hidden
...What if I started a book that way?
Yes, it is literally about philosophers reincarnated as orca whales that fly around in this kind of nirvana-like garden.
What would happen if I tried to write an epic poem that spanned the length of a full-fledged novel? What if I wasn't brought down by the fear of being mocked for making a book about-- wait, what the fuck-- flying whales that are actually ancient philosophers reincarnated? And this girl who has to find them in their secret location so she can have the answers to life? What if I wasn't so afraid of posting these secret things, these things that I sometimes write in my private journal, that it didn't take me hours of doubt to make this post public? What then?