The Allegory of Dimitri

The following is an experiment in what I call iambic prose, or an iambic rhythm without the pairing of a poetic meter.

Imagine, if you will, a man who’s named Dimitri. Then, imagine that Dimitri’s cut into a billion little bits. And then, some sort of miracle makes all these little bits into whole new people.

Imagine, now, two people in particular. The two are Ivan, made of bits of finger, and Eugene, who’s made of bits of liver. Ivan and Eugene are both undoubtedly two pieces of Dimitri. They are not, however, all of him. They are able to be of him and not be him at the same time.

One could very much thus call Eugene and Ivan wholly different, for one is of Dimitri’s liver, while the other, of his finger. They’d, of course, be right. But someone else could call them both the same, for they are both but bits of one united substance. They, as well, would be completely right. Eugene and Ivan each are pieces of Dimitri’s whole. Dimitri’s incomplete without them. They are incomplete without Dimitri.

And so it is with God. Our essence is, most clearly, that which makes us up. We may identify this essence with Yahweh, Allah, Brahma, metaphysical states of existence, or whatever else. But we are of it. We are never all of it. The whole is totally ineffable. The bit is all that we can ever know. So to be you is, simply put, to be your piece of it. Do not be anybody else or any less than all of you. Be you.

Thou art that. Know thyself, and thou shalt know this.