Messianic Explosivity

Things to do often offer us with a glimpse of future time. After-life of works are “for-itself” presencing of time forward, yet with a tinge of past metaphoric spaces. Past is a negative limit extension of “in-itself” presence of present. While Messianic explosivity comes down to present through past, a past without any signification of denotative spaces. It is like a memory nullified, a memory without spaces, or the reference of space comes only through its connotative sense. It is a limit time, the fifth dimension of time, where through the connotative sense of spatiality, spatial dimensions overflows the spatial sense and is marked only through time. It is a time denoted as past-futural. A past which only signifies time sans the spatiality of past references to spaces. Spatial connotation denotes only time. This limit experience only matters to us through futural glimpse of our own tidy works, done at the limit moment of exasperation. Our works done through tidy time of aloneness, certain “in-itself” status is gained within the impure “for-itself” time spatiality. ‘‘Time-after’’ is gained as impure “for-itself”, within the starving loneliness of “in-itself” limit spatiality. Garage song of obliviousness is faded as we live a million years, by taking part in questions thrown at us by the one, who never sells any alibis. We often look at ourselves and in a moment of pride utter “this is me, I myself is the one, with many, together, are in oneness with all, offer this to the living earth and beyond.” Even a peasant bears this attitude while sowing the field. All of us bear this ‘‘astonishment of being’’. It is to be one with everyone and glimpse the collective future of mankind.  Fifth time limit or ‘thought-matter’, without any spatial signification, with its hollowing of spaces yet appears as a time syndrome, is for a person or for a collective the limit moment of exasperation. The futural time journeys from future through past, by only connoting the past spatiality, and touches the present, only as a promise or hope, to the lonesome author, drug-addicts, social-misfits or in a moment of grace, to the whole collective.

Jeet Bhattacharya
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