The Outpost

The Bliss 

     Suzi points her laser into the jungle, where heroic deeds of blackness remain, held within a functional  domain. She directs a reference beam and wonders, for a while, of this forest as a divine, uncelebrated lover, staring out from the light fields she is about to record, light fields she knows as the place of motion, of spinners of the double helix.  Nearby, the ocean stands as an ancient seaborne patroness of cool breezes, once deafening the silences with a blissful blue, rainbows as a  willing façade for centuries of harmonic seduction. Beyond the coastal cliffs, she views the absence of visible light fields as the headwaters of desire, the originator of want. She feels the  majestic trees sway with a song that no longer requires a sound field--scattered resonance held forever as a recording. There are no feathery creatures, either, to trumpet their success, since, no such success could be captured as image. Aiming her lasers, shooting the vast expanse of lime-green ocean, Suzi witnesses the perfect showcase of nothing, or, everything, depending on her spacetime observation--could all this greenery be merely a green screen, the curtain behind which the real gene troves lay? It seems the bright images on display entertain, amuse, as illusionary remnants, while Nature's becalming presence waits elsewhere, and, this jungle, once teeming with life, now holds within the matrix of its cellulosicDNA its secret. Suzi directs her laser.