The Nameless

I have many names and none of them matter.

     Names are not important, to speak is to name names, but to speak is not important. A thing happens once that has never happened before. Seeing it, a man looks upon reality. He cannot tell others what he has seen. Others wish to know, however, so they question him saying, "what is it like this thing you have see?" so he tries to tell them.
     Perhaps he has seen the first fire in the world. He talks to them saying "it is red, like a poppy, but through it dances other colors. It has no form, like water, flowing everywhere. It is warm, like the sun of summer, only warmer.
     It exists, for a time upon a piece of wood, and then when the wood is gone (as though eaten) leaving behind that which is black and can be sifted like sand. When the wood is gone then it too is gone.
     Therefore the hearers must think reality is like a poppy, like water, like the sun, like that which eats and excretes. They think it is like anything that they are told it is like by the man who has known it. But they have not looked upon fire. They cannot really know it. They can only know of it.
     But fire comes again into the world, many times. More men look upon fire. After a time, fire is as common as grass and clouds and the air they breathe. They see that, while it is like a poppy it is not a poppy, while it is like water it is not water, while it is like the sun it is not the sun. And while it is like that which eats and passes waste it is not that which eats and passes waste. But something different from each of these apart or all of these together. So they look they look upon this new thing and make a new word to call it.

They call it "Fire"

     If they come upon someone who still has not seen it and they speak to him of fire. He doesn't know what they are talking about. So they in turn, fall back to telling him what fire is like. As they do so, they know from their own experience what they are telling him is not the truth but only part of it. They know that this man will never know reality from their words, though the words in the world are theirs to use.
He must look upon fire, smell it, warm his hands by it, stare into its heart, or remain ignorant. Therefore fire does not matter, "earth" and "air" and "water" do not matter.
     "I" do not matter. No words matter. The more words remembered, the cleverer one is thought to be. I can look upon the great transformations of the world, but not see them as they were first seen when man looked upon reality for the first time. The names come to my lips and I smile I can taste them, thinking I know them in the naming. The thing that has never happened before is still happening. It is still a miracle. The great burning blossom squats, flowing, upon the limb of the world, excreting the ash of the world, and being none of these things I have named and at the same time, all of them.

This is reality. The nameless.