[ pictures | prose | flashes of awe ] by Mike Yost

Philosophy

Impermanence

I shot this photo with an old Nikon pocket camera after slinking into an abandoned building in New York.

When the camera went click, I wondered:

Who stood where I was standing? What kind of work did they do?  What was the dresser for?

Silence was the only reply.

I stopped my breathing and tried to hear the past.

Conversations only the decaying ceiling remembers.

Locked behind us all in memories forgotten.

Reminding us all that the future is just a vision.

And all that is true reality is the now.

I smiled at how to capture such a precious thing,

Just as the camera went click.

 

Photograph and Prose copyright Mike Yost 2017


Image

Rivers beneath the Sky

Rivers beneath the sky
Spill over the cloudy banks
Crashing into formless rocks
Splashing into space itself

Into that vast void
Flows time into timelessness
Only the now exists

Light streaming simultaneous
Hidden throughout

The undercurrent swells
Rising out of blackness
Breaking through the surface to breathe

Reflecting off cloudy banks
Reflecting off the eye
Reflecting off the mind

Pulled out from under an endless river
That flows gently beneath the sky

Photograph and Prose copyright Mike Yost 2017

Illumination

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2017

Transitory

“But my dear man, reality is only a Rorschach ink-blot, you know.”
—Alan Watts

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2017

Image

Perception is a Relationship


Black Box

And this powerful mind
Framed within a black box of our own creation
Reflecting only upon all that exists outside a glass canopy
Never turning that attention inward

Behind the glass

Behind the engine of consciousness
To dwell on the absurdity of a thought
A memory without weight
Pulling ideas through time

To be aware of such mental machinations
To be bewildered at the awe of thinking itself

Gossamer strings vibrating memories into existence
Vibrating me into existence
Out of vacuity
The very idea of self, emerges

All locked behind our weary eyes
Sunk deep into a black box
Of our own creation

Photograph and Prose copyright Mike Yost 2017

Mirage

“All this pain is an illusion,” Maynard sings
I slam my head back and forth
Desperately hammering those words into my skull
As pain sinks its sharp teeth deeper into my chest

It’s all a lie

I hear

Even the truth is a lie
No way to really know
We float helplessly in nothingness
Embracing lies to survive

Teeth and claws break apart my rib cage
The loud crack smacking my ears
I watch my heart, torn away in an arc of liquid red
Now pounding within its jaws, dripping
I bleed eternally into the thirsty dust

The illusion feels too real tonight
To cope
To see the truth of my existence

Swallowed by suffering
I see eyes glowing yellow in the dark
Hovering just above a wide, red smile


Time is Illusory

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2017

Image

Undercurrent

Photograph copyright Mike Yost 2017

Glass Boxes

Glass Boxes
Contain cognition
Within obsidian walls
Obsidian minds
Shatter into shards
Mere commodities
Screaming quietly behind
Glass Boxes

Photograph and Prose copyright Mike Yost 2017