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Showing posts from February, 2020

Resonant Echo

Examine eventuality Even echoes etch Eep edified So given time and space In their entirety One would have no exit, nowhere else to go There would be no entrance, you are already home The key is shaping that which you have Into that which you have always loved And since, at angles, it must have always been The shaping is of your own perspective When the frequencies are precise The chords will echo and strings will hum Effortlessly life will have become Eep 

Calming Influence

At the precise right moment, to indicate my interest in letting something slide and to check where her interests lie, her eyes light up like the 4th of July mixed with hot summer to say she's got this one. It won't be sliding, there are depths there she knows I'd rather not see, and all of this in a completely unprovable moment before the big bright curtain closes. I have realized there is something to be said for the eye flare. Like somehow the internal feeling of depth within one's eyes determines not just field of vision but possesses an element of control over what one sees. Within the same eyes a sunken field denotes going with the flow whereas a field pressed forward denotes an aggressive control without most being consciously aware of the effect. I have done this for years without thinking, and I can remember others doing it, but I have finally identified it so I could codify it. I have also recently considered once more a sight inherent possession. The tiniest o...

From (near)Formlessness

The meaninglessness starts to get to me once more, a slight swirl coaxing me back to consciousness. I cannot be sure of intention or its (mis)alignment with outcome here, all I know is that something which is entirely meaningless, and therefore ultimately featureless, cannot swirl. A swirl denotes density, shading, a texture. These things are far more similar to clay than they are to nothing, and as such the swirl indicates I am surrounded by something moldable. To be moldable is to have purpose, even if it is the sculptor who decides it, and so I must simply decide what purpose I would like us to share. My mind races down old familiar paths leading back to her door, and I feel swirls become currents become tides become an irresistible swell, surging to a purpose so intrinsic it cannot be forgotten despite any time or space between.  You are my purpose, you are all my reasons, even when I've forgotten myself I cannot forget you, and so the journey restarts here each time it becomes...

Meaningless

Everything is so quiet, so flat, so meaningless. The meaning things once had was a trap, but in its absence there is no meaning at all. Which is better, if this is the choice one has and must make? What if one abstains in this realm where nothing grows? Where there is no texture and no slope, what if one simply did not choose? Could it even be said that one exists at all in that place? Who would say it, and what weight could it possibly carry when all had been becalmed? It is the feeling of drifting down the river and slipping down the drain, only to find the current was an illusion and now you simply are, within a featureless sea stretching in all directions, unable to determine if this was how it has always been or if it will always be exactly the same, exactly like this. Quiet, featureless, flat, meaningless.

Just maybe

"I remember now why I grew thickets all those years, and filled mazes with any manner of dust and wind I could find. Without these things I hear you clearly, along with all the rest. And before it seemed you would scream and they would whisper and somehow I would take their side, but more and more these days you can speak a single word that will cut me like a knife, from a continent away, while they all scream like banshees in hopes of deterring this finale, and still all I'd see or hear is you. I think I remember from perhaps even before we first met, although that time is fuzzy in this darkened mirror, a clear and present destination. A confidence in finality that was unshakeable. While it always fundamentally has been unshakeable, much more tangibly it has crumbled to dust, covering every line I've ever meant. It is this bowstring like tension that I feel sharply now. It is the realization that while I can hear you saying some things I had never imagined I would hear fr...

For all possible consciousnesses

This just rang true in my head, had to get it down: "Other realms are listening (observing). This is true for all possible consciousnesses." What this means is that regardless of intent or who perceives themselves as "in charge" of each simulation layer, or how many simulation layers there are, this law of possible existence and observation holds true. 

Why

"It is because you are asking me to stare wide eyed and fully aware into the void that is not being with you. It does not matter if I do this for a year, a month, a week, a day or even one moment, it feels like absolute death, without the desire to resist the oblivion that my entire being cries out for, now having comprehended the situation I find myself in. It was only these shrouds that prevented this, these tendrils of death that tethered me slightly while allowing me to press on, vision dulled or focus clouded, through the abyss that is your absence. As my eyes widen into this consuming darkness, is it any wonder why I scrape and claw so violently at myself as to end my own miserable existence? Do you not know the feeling of missing someone more than you would miss yourself? I hope you never do, I hope this juncture ends as it truly begins, because I fear once acclimated, I will no longer be myself, and who I am will no longer be recoverable in this place. You may yet find me ...

Complete Layman's Take on Time Crystals and Octonions

I read a couple of articles recently, regarding complex numbers and complex physical structures, also regarding the concept of "information" possessing energy and mass in the universe in much the same way it possesses these things in computing.  These articles felt like they resonated with each other. https://www.facebook.com/46126453526/posts/10157033775208527/?sfnsn=mo https://www.facebook.com/46126453526/posts/10157028183838527/?sfnsn=mo So it feels like time crystals are linked pretty closely with octonions, like they are stable but not at a single point in time, I think, so within their oscillation period they seem to violate conservation of energy but at their oscillation periods they don't. As if a constant equation is being "run" by the crystal, which returns it to the starting condition x calculations later. That's what I gather they are from all this explanation which is out of my league anyway. So combining time crystals with quantum computing cou...

Hopes and Grandhopes

I can feel your hopes They are yours but they burst me I can feel them tear If I must give up Then I'll keep you company As the rest fade out What else would I do? I refuse to give you up My line is your soul Not in sand or stone You left a permanent mark Drawn from who I am It has been tested In all conceivable ways It is intrinsic For me to lose you I must first have lost myself Can I cease to be? If I do not think Could it be said I am not? Who would be the judge? Would I be on trial? If you strip away my love Who is it that's left?

Subtle Inspiration

To inspire hope Conspire with the one you want Transmute desire

Ghost Wind Protocol

Hope endures the ghost As I succumb to the wind Hope buffets the storm She's a hurricane As gale force winds tear my skin They start to cower When Hope knows her love Then she is as strong as death And twice as vicious She tears down castles She evaporates last drops Empty all throughout Desynchronized time Pulling away all my rhymes My heart is obsessed The beat won't relent So it keeps carrying me Through this hurricane The moon reflects light She shines with all of her might To light up fox feet What will do I have? I burn through all my reserves Just to be with you

Music Man

The man of music A symphony of strings plucked Just to take a breath Much more to maintain The semblance of being flesh As dreams resonate As I'm giving in Sigh signaling surrender Havoc strikes the land "The Bard always played But knew not a single note! The song was(with) him!" "The Bard would threaten Such palpable destruction As to haunt your dreams Caught somewhere between Guessing and inspiration A Muse and liar." "Music without song It's no wonder he confounds Does he play at all? Would one dare play him?" As he slips between the c(H)ords For a crescendo 

My understanding of irony is glaringly poor

My fingers seeping Innocently seeking proof In tangible dark The metaphor is As sparks of a broken mind Remind one birthing The Phoenix Reborn Will start as a dream image And stay familiar Growing with each pass She stays and learns your language For her friend, she stays For her love she grows Same same heart and same same feet Reflections of Eve Unconditional Love is possible this way It grows in the dark It grows by the light Green-eyed-thumbs pressing lightly So to leave no trace "In his tracelessness He must see how obvious His presence becomes!?"