Mark Cantrell, Author

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PROSE: Words Make Telepathy

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 24, 2015 at 12:30 PM

Synapses of the Soul

By Mark Cantrell

HERE in the cold night, when the world is quiet and the distractions of the day are hidden in shadow, the writer sits to think.

 

He has nothing now to divert him from the words, but the smoking cigarette and the steaming mug of coffee. For the dedicated writer, these are no distractions; they are essential components of the writer's craft. Both work to stimulate mind and brain, encouraging the two in their symbiotic and mysterious process of generating fantasy and imagination.

 

The writer pauses to inhale some smoke. As he does so, his mind is blank, but somewhere beneath the void, neurones are working their magic. In collective harmony, they weave words and ideas. The process is as old and as timeless as the human mind itself. Rooted in ages past, even to the primordial origins of the human soul.

 

With exhalation comes the plume of words. They are zapped down the nervous system in a complex array of signals. Elaborate, and yet simple, they stir muscle and bone. A thousand signals move the machinery of arm and hand and fingers. Precision co-ordination of hand and eye discharges the words onto the written page, or the phosphor-glow of the computer screen.

 

While the writer poses, the brain works its mysterious magic. The results are the words that sear the human imagination. Each idea generated in the depths of the human soul, discharged like lightning through the tips of clumsy appendages. There to wait until scanned by a roving eye.

 

And then in reverse the lightning strikes. Through the darkest depths of the pupil, through the intense complexity of neurones that now decode meaning, the thoughts and ideas so carefully interwoven explode in a fresh mind. Meaning leaps through the void of darkness that separates our individual thoughts.

 

Words are the neuro-transmitters of the collective human soul, our fingers the synapses that bind us together as one.

 

Mark Cantrell,

Bradford,

29 August 2000.

 

Copyright (C) August 2000. All Rights Reserved.

Categories: PROSE

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