The Monster and the Worm

Once upon a quite long time ago,
when the Earth was young, and the velvet sky a dark and mauve-ish hue of awe,

the only jewel upon the sky was Lady Moon,

and She was made of silver.

Upon the wet and muddy forest floor,

covered with fallen leaves of every kind you've thought and more;

covered with crunchy or squishy things, alive or dead afore,

the common Worm hurried along,

as many an everending night it did before.

The common Worm, creeping and crawling on the forest floor,

quite like it had on any other night before,

could not have seen,

could not have known; or felt, or smelt,

what was it, was about to go.

Behind the forest bushes and behind the forest trees,

behind the velvet, mauve-ish night that makes you shake your knees

,suddenly,

 jumped the Monster!

"Eeek!" squilled in agony the fret-filled Worm.

And some have said, along with sound of fright, a passing, cunny Wind did stole,

it left, as well, some poopies, on the forest floor.

As the swirly cloud of dust settled ,taking back its quaint, Aristotelian-peaceful place, upon the forest floor,

and the trembling Earth did cease her disco-dancy shaking, under the Monster’s weight-and-all,

the giant Monster who was standing gloriously and tall,

opened its yellow, wondrous eyes

and stared directly at the Worm, with the audacity and demande[i] of someone waiting at the door.

The Worm, now having scavenged some archaic sense of Warrior- soul,

 stared back with pride, it gave its all,

his leaping gaze delved deeply but not laboriously at all, 
through the mysterious tunnels behind the curious glare of the yellow eyed Monster.

This un-intermittent, collaboratory stare, of this binary system, or, if you like, Golden event[ii], was not in the least broken, or terminated, as the mammoth Monster lowered its monstrous head, leaning close to, and bringing it directly in front of the stare-y eyes that happened to be sitting upon the face of the Worm.

And as he did so, the Monster, facing the worm-ish face, opened its mouth, as wide he could, and smiled. 

As a result of this, his boar-ish tusks did glisten, lit from a single lunar streak of light.

And there they stood without a word,

staring at each other;

like idiots.

Some time had passed like this. We do not know exactly, was it an hour or so, for no-one counted, and forest floors are known to be lacking, or short of, big ticking clocks. Dazed and confused, the Worm first spoke; he spoke like this, with soft and whispering voice, lest not, it, of the situation make a mock:

“I do not understand;

what is it that my worm-ish eyes are seeing,

as I do look upon this Monster’s yellow eyes.

What fancy?

What treacherous mirage is it I lay my gaze on,

this can’t be me, is this supposed to be my own reflection?

For I have looked upon rivers moonlit and have ,I, in wondering rain-drops recognized my worm representation.

Alas! This spectacle I’m witnessing cannot be it!

Impossible and evil fantasy!!

I see this God , where my familiar features should have been, I see this golden, firy, Godlike creature.

Dear Monster, what is wrong?

Why do your mirror-eyes betray my senses so?”

And then the Monster spoke, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual:

-Perhaps it’s madness, I could not know, perhaps we’ve turned into buffoons, the laughing-stock of all; but what I see, dear Worm, has made me be, oh, equally at awe.

-Dear Monster, what is it that you see? Please say.

-Worm dearest, dearest Worm, of course, I’d know my monstrous face, I’ve had it for ten years or so, but… but… but… but, when I look inside your mirror-eyes I see a princess, ghostly white with golden wavy hair wearing a nun-sawn, whitest frock.

Silence

-Dear Worm?

-Yes, Monster, dear.

-I love you, Worm, now and forever more.

-FOREVER MORE?! YOU LOVE ME AND FOREVER MORE?! the Worm said screaming and in horror curled into a ball.

The Monster whispered soft, upon the ball-ish Worm, his breath tickling its curled up body:

-Dear Worm, please do not curl into a ball, I said it, I love you! I love you and forever more! and he gave its worm-ish, pointy head a little kiss.

And so the Worm, fought with its fear, uncurled and ceased to be a ball and said:

-I love you, Monster; I love your body and your soul, your wicked snout, your silly smile with crooked teeths of boar, 
I love you whole.

And they both smiled at each other.

Like idiots.

But, see, children, it still utterly escapes me, what this tale of Old is truly trying to convey. You see, children, fideism- the heretic belief that faith rests on faith and nothing else- is quite a dangerous idea. In this via negativa [iii],  where désir[iv] is  raped into the shape of besoigne[v], where maybe worms cannot be Gods and monsters cannot be princesses with hand-sawn white dresses, it seems to be almost impossible 
to distinguish

virtú[vi] from virtual,

to acquire
an outillage mental[vii] to tell apart

delusion from reality.

“Why is the sky so bright and blue?

Who took away its mauve-ish hue?

Can it be you and I that fly,

so high above, this eye-squinting-light-filled thing that used to be the sky?”

---

[i] (Γαλλικά) αίτημα, από Lacan

[ii] από Garrison για φυσικη

[iii] από Hegel, path of the negative (λατινικά)

[iv] (Γαλλικά) επιθυμία, από Lacan

[v] (Γαλλικά) ανάγκη, από Lacan

[vi]  Αρετή (λατινικά)

[vii] Mental tool, από Abel Rey