Ode to Love

Love. Though the pit was deep, love persisted. Though their schemes were thorough, love overcame all the same. In this case love overcame as a door of unique design. No door so directly could be fashioned, the schemers had ensured this before realizing that it was each their own trap that they would fall prey to, yet still a door was fashioned. In the basement, in this pit, in this place where all scaffolding of the mind had been left behind and above, a needle's eye could be seen. The twists and turns that comprised the threshold were apparent before entry, the shape and size were apparent as well. No goods, no schemes, no golden parachutes might be carried through, but one could walk through on their own without issue, or any direct harm. One would emerge as themselves, love could secure this much from a passage once considered the river of memory, washing it all away. One would emerge as themselves, love could secure this much from a juncture once known as the flames, now it was...

The sun is shining Day off scooched but days come still This one is different By name and number Bard claiming to be seen, seen Paired veils set aside To dance without shame Two dance to secure a name Dance practiced for years With the stars? A few. For the stars? Selectively. Sea claimed in one night Could have been one move A *SNAP* is all it would take But who then would learn? The true strength of love Love alone as strong as death Paired? Beyond measure. Unfathomable Son of Man's secret revealed Slowed to lightning speed Stare bright eyed with me Stand with fist clenched till first note Then dance. Just dance. eep.

The sun is shining Each day following the last But I weather them Like railroad crossings A sword passing back and forth A car in two gears Working out the kinks While working as expected 6 days of 7 Memorial Day Is sparking in memory Something like a dream Of footfalls retraced Of War in its fullest form  One soldier fallen Can fight be refused? Can steps be unexpected? Can this War be won? Why fight if not so? Hear it asked from every side Battlecry chorus Love your enemy Love your neighbor as yourself Who is it we face?

So, a story feels echoed by dream, by page, by stage, and by screen. First: what if The Beast refuses to do their job? Second: What if The Phoenix figures out how to hopscotch away from what should have been the end, losing the game but keeping the board intact? Third: What if Lilith witnesses this entire unique iteration unfold, glimpsing love firsthand? Fourth: What if Hope figures out how to echo it back? Love's Labours Won, perhaps. 🤔 It would have to be a story told from split perspectives through and through, to the end. 86-> 83/89 As I've said for quite some.  The Big Bang-> The Void Circled and emerged from. Thank you for acting and singing, and always shining, it out for me. 💜💟🌌💚🌱

Energy abounds Between voltage and the spark Who dares to enter? This space between teems Who dares enter, who could leave? Unchanged by these tides? This distance between A chasm that grows itchy As it grows wider An itch not felt here Resonant echo of years Felt everywhere else So it is tonight Until her and my eyes meet Smelling the roses Scratch and breathe deeply Or knock and cross this threshold The door locking soon Fist clenched, standing ground Even as the dam gives way Fourteen years past due Water rushes forth Marianas, Grand Canyon It's the same to me.

The sun is shining Or so I am assuming Birds chirp anyway A dream so mundane Now spikes in mind like voltage A field magnetized Complex alignment Matches with words on the page Unexpectedly "Very" a product "Very very" a promise Let it be for good Let it be for love On day of rest I wonder What might be agreed? Life complicated When death is written in hearts And belief is blind ~"You will never die If you believeth in me. Do you believe this?" (John 11:26) I believe, Jesus Though the crowd(/sheep) (call)s me crazy Let your words be true.

Ordinarily I would reference the transition- forest turned to road turned to ride turned to something (likely a storage shed) turned to halls- but on this journey such things were ephemeral and ineffable. I only remember looking up at the moon, full in the night sky, and then the moon (or the sky itself perhaps) winked at me. Eye open, to closed, to open once more, and in these passing seconds it felt as though the stage shed its skin beneath my feet. From night it began and at night it ended. In the forest I find myself still, so I meander in the direction of the road. I feel inspiration lag behind words as these days of rest end, but it feels as though a song starts to accompany my steps, or will, as a familiar concept begins to fill my mind as if winter clouds, before drifting to the ground like snow. I perk an ear toward this stormfront and feel myself drawn into the landscape, the lyrics and notes becoming slightly more clear with each passing foggy breath. I look up once more, se...

The sun is shining There are some clouds in the sky A refreshing change Still just as hot though These hundred plus degree days No sign of stopping Work started early All caught up despite delays Another full week The dragons each faced Work and rest remain, separate I'll see result soon This weekend is split But my day of rest comes soon No plans yet, as such Goodbye and hello Do I acquit myself well? Could I do better? Where once was a storm I feel boxes all checking A calm extending The thrill expired While this has been true throughout My love, I miss you 

What should be simple The most elusive foe yet So many layers... What might be called "rest?" What is considered "fullest?" Count no glancing blows They all glance these days All moments of partial ease Moments of two minds So they slip beneath As if work filed away That rest does not shine In this free fall strike Plant flagstaff in the mountain As if in two gears Brakes slammed to enjoy Float like a lazy river While work still flies by Two is all we need Reconciled by the dream By station, by gear Hail this enemy Let's parley with this dragon Discuss (di/con)vergence 

The sun is shining Moon touring the daylight Just a sliver seen Work started early Though may be interrupted False start catching up Dreams dreamt and faded Leave me wanting something more But graciously so How do days follow This loss I feel echoing Into something real? Are feeling false here? Do they matter so little They carry no weight? Then why would I stay /go ? Each answer in a bubble From your own pocket For eep is calling Where you is all you will have Imminent domain "Her" "Her" "Her" "Her" "Me!" (go/go/go/go/stay) My answer becomes simple When crushed to the core

The sun is shining, A record high for today, Or so I am told Nonsense from a friend Has me considering snares Attacks on repeat Lines of words and field Of logic and physical Of sides switched unseen River crossed and crossed The approach seen consistent Though words make no sense Are fields now aligned? Such that they hold each other With me in the eye? The dot of the "i"s Four parts imaginary Helicopter blades Spun at the right speed Each a pillar in heaven All chained yet still free The work almost done I can feel it in my soul My very real soul 

I was just considering the nature of The Beast, in relation to what Jesus said and is written, in relation to the access to all that Jesus would have, once rising from the grave: Matthew 5:44   "'Love Your Enemies.'" We are confronted from time to time (seemingly with evermore frequency now) with enemies that make love seen like an undesirable and repulsive solution. "Surely Jesus, you did not mean this enemy?" is the cry all around, mixed with the sound of individuals, who want to consider their hearts to be good, twisting their own definition of love such that the actions of hate might be legally substituted in love's place. Of all the hard lessons that can be levied in life, love can seem at times to be the most cruel.  So how does Jesus answer? Is this the enemy where Jesus' commandment breaks? Where Jesus admits speaking falsely by speaking without caveat, and allows an exception to be made? No. Never. If more than a basic understanding of Jesu...

The sun is shining Not a cloud seen in the sky Standard Phoenix (Tempe) fare The GG taunts me Sign a simple sip of sign Signal e'er static What "use" is GG Even its numeric (harmonic) threads If it's Greek to me? See, I don't speak Greek Am I Atlas or Ajax? This crowd's hot topic Even I don't know DNA shaped, reaped and sown Whose hand has such skill? Dare begin again? Dare not repeat the same steps More than scarf will fall Phoenix feather bet? Would you wager very stone Gifted with pure heart? (The) work is on/in (the) page Refined or ash is the age Stubble or good gold

The sun is shining Why is today like a blur So few hours passed? Some interactions Are these signs she's peeking in? Looking to say hi? Looking to move me From normal laundry routine To something closer? Mind drifts to journals Laying alongside my bed With dust on pages Work is going fine Though I think I need a nap Before finishing More interactions Conspicuously slotted On quiet evenings Does ear ache remote Are straight lines made more crooked Just to hear my voice? I would not object Taken as a compliment Though humbly doubted

I feel like it is still somewhat common to hear "What is knowledge without wisdom?" and even if not common, there is a sense which is common to the question. Today I ask though: "What is wisdom without knowledge?" If the former can illuminate fools amidst the intelligent, what then does the latter question illuminate? Can the reader even fathom having wisdom without knowledge? On what topics or in which areas would one even be able to provide wise council in such a state? Is it strictly from a human perspective that this question feels incomprehensible, because as humans we are born with the intrinsic nature to absorb knowledge before we are even able to fully/consciously remember things? Perhaps this line of questioning strikes the reader as nonsense, but as of today, for me, I see it as a critical puzzle piece. Put another way "For humans, wisdom will (May? Can?) only reside where there is knowledge already." On a deep level, however, it feels like there...

Isaiah 33:6 He will be the sure foundation for your times, a rich store of salvation and wisdom and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is the key to this treasure. I just reread this verse and remembered that "salvation" is Jesus, by name, Wisdom, is referenced in Proverbs 8, but this verse makes it feel like "knowledge" may be a third (child, of God?) to find, if one continues with the idea of The Word becoming flesh. I looked up the word in Hebrew and saw immediately that it is used in Daniel, in a verse I had often wondered about, it always felt like it stood out as a mystery: Daniel 12:4 "But you, Daniel, roll up and seal the words of the scroll until the time of the end. Many will go here and there to increase knowledge.” I have been having many dreams and notions recently, and over the past couple of years, of the end times being a period just before rebirth on a holistic scale, and being similar to the development of a fetus in the womb. This process is not...

The sun is shining But I am chilling inside As I often do Much to consider Dreams direct analogies For shaping of realms Not a thing has changed Now that I have woken up Which is curious... If the mind shapes realms How does this one stay the same While the rest changes? Imagine a plate That spins and shifts wildly But view stays the same Near impossible Yet this is how these days go A sign painted red Up like a sore thumb But one that can't be held out Perpetually The hand is shaking That holds up the walls between Meanwhile, I rest.

I just had this sudden feeling of calm mixed with something that almost felt like a hallucinogenic trip, just sitting on my couch (tobacco only, for any wondering). It was like this tuning that I just wrote of tangibly connected back to something that I once wrote about regarding the intersection of this verse:  Mark 10:18 “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone." and the descriptions of each aspect of Creation in Genesis. In this chapter God says that nearly everything created is "good," except for darkness, sky, and mankind. If this statement from Jesus and amount of Creation are combined literally, which I believe is reasonable to do, it would mean that God essentially inhabits/makes up/what have you, nearly everything. It feels as though my "radio" tuned into this perspective in combination with my own perspective, and I could feel this permeating sense that God is all around. I started considering where God would not be...

I was just watching some dancing on a TV show, and felt an epiphany forming around seeing their three red shoes and one blue shoe. I quickly derailed my train of thought, considering instead the absurdity of being inspired by such a thing, when another epiphany struck me: Given the intertwined nature that I presently assume is inherent in reality, what if the reason that so much seems inspirational is because there is a deeply threaded level at which everything actually is inspirational? What if this is seen, and only seen, when tuning your radio to pick up on the things most proximal, from an inspiration standpoint, to the thing you are observing, and on this level there are always several inspired connections at this proximity which are observable? I have heard it said that in life one often sees their own deep expectations being met- a filter of sorts. I do not necessarily believe this to be true exclusively or in its entirety, but I have noticed things in my own life that suggest i...

Oh when you realize That this is temporary And plunder crumbles Maybe it take years Maybe someone has mercy It might take eons Clinging to phantoms Polishing these skeletons Dressing up corpses Then you discover The others you thought you chained Have been gone so long Seeds blooming elsewhere This slavery like a dream Waking in heaven But the chains remain An affront to those who save So the chains decay How well did/do they bind? Do you only ask yourself When your door they seal? Creativity Left with those who tended it Beneath your notice 

The sun is rising Reflecting purple pink skies And a moon half full 👋 Long work week over Pushed day's start to the limit To bring in some snacks Now it's Sunday morn' My mind comes to rest on rest And making the most Best choice is still chained Favorite pastime yet postponed So art fills the halls By letter and page What works or faith pulls you in? What match ends this point? Does love stand above? I've theorized as (such/much) but Long to see love walk From these side stages Reflected limelights dazzling But holding no weight One day they are gone. Let us seek out lasting things Let's walk together?

The image fades and scatters, its tangibility dissipating into day. Days pass like dreams in this season though, and so with but a few reassuring lines, and several passing hours, the image turns to a cozy darkness again. In the darkness, yet to whistle, I see a single puzzle piece laying at my feet. In this innocent place and state I stoop and pick it up. Upon contact the image crystallizes once more into something like halls, again familiar as if etched into the spaces between threads in my soul or perhaps chisled from my soul itself. I close my eyes once, the memory of a dream filtering to mind. After all, can it be said that there is a purpose to dreams outside of providing the backdrop for adventure or inspiration? So something like a dream merges with the memory of one and rain sticks to page as petrichor does in mind. I open my eyes and I am amidst suburban hills in a spring shower. Turning, I see the shore lined with crashing waves and darkened skies in various directions. Curi...

The sun is shining Compy suggests a "watchlist" But what use are stocks? Work is going well First full week in a while Passed beneath notice Anchored, resonant These feeling linger today Claimed from dream like ore Tuned like guitar string Fascinating like jump rope When physics was felt These eyes tuned to see So all that glitters is gold Th(r)ough purple and green Shall we continue? This origin story does Though dreamer wanders No rush through fallow Forest donning same visage That our hats might match For what is Bard's song Without accompaniment? A tinny whistle (A clanging cymbal)

The sun is shining It's fire weather again Is this the norm now? Work continues on Though it's trying to encroach Back into stressful Timing in focus Like walking from the ocean Wave and sand pulling But I stand my ground Press forward despite setback Those past and coming Of dreams on the page Forgotten and remembered These things lost and gained Can a man bear weight With fist clenched around ripcord If he gets knocked down? I will get back up But will the game continue Or be left to tides? Time may tell, it seems What use are these petty/hollow things? She comes/waits either way.

The sun is shining Signs say it's fire weather But I'm burning now Like smoldering coal Signals like piercing arrows So I turtle up But within ablaze As different paths are revealed Each to the same place Alignimg bylines So agreement might be struck While secrets still kept But dreams fade to work Work stays graciously faded This fight going well But I feel faded Is fatigue necessary To see lover's eyes? To insulate eep So that its unmatched voltage Sees one withstanding? Wait notwithstanding Today I mourn soulmate's plight Last page yet unfelt 

Good work found for all Has this dragon been misnamed? Is fight misaligned? Crafting at its core Real only words emphasized In agreement forged Forged as eternal Nothing's as good as it seems Is this a promise? I remember when The fight turned cooperative And/At soulmate's first glimpse How eyes turn starry How we love without reason Seen by sun or page It is space between That illuminates this (')verse(:) "'Love your enemy.'" Work and rest separate If joy's found in each for all Hope's real, it is done. Picture perfect stage That we set, we are, we walk In midst, through and through

The sun is shining Even one night shifts focus Dragon well chosen For work continues But it feels less oppressive Even one night hence Wash, rinse, and repeat One cycle made easier By love seen on stage On this stage she shines In mind by daylight or dream Even when absent Eyes close to darkness For you I( ')(woul(d) light a fire My eyes sparked by yours Which is "the signal?" By sunrise and sunset hope Has risen then fell Can I imagine The juncture where hopes don't fall For knock on the door? In this house I try Lessons learned I open eyes In this house I try

Words fall like puzzle pieces to the floor Signs of a dragon I fight all week long Too many makes anxious, too few a bore How might tasks become notes, heard like a song? Weeks like an album pulled from a pile Dull hours fast forward, best parts slowed down Work an inch, shining moments a mile My headphones on the whole way into town If a number of steps is required Then a number of thoughts cannot be so For these things never synch when desired So why not swipswap what's fast and what's slow? Let this dragon process its own loose ends Good work found for all when foes become friends

The sun is shining Though city just went lights out At least a quarter Some promises made Feel meant for that very day God does not delay So what's all this then? You know what scratch that, screw it The sun is shining The sun is shining Would this be preferred of me? The sun is shining The sun is shining A daily stable cycle The sun is shining The sun is shining You see the end so who cares? The sun is shining The sun is shining Without love meaningless rot The sun is shining The sun is shining Then one day every one stops Then all is darkness 

Have I mistaken this realm of open spaces and nearly always consistent things for one dissimilar from the halls of eep I have seen? Does an enclosure dazzle so past a particular juncture, that one is fooled into thinking it is infinite? Or do tightly turning tunnels of measurable size fool their occupants into thinking they are not? "In your midst" was said, so in my midst it is, if I am to believe any of it, I must believe this. While the details of "midst" might as of yet be unclear, I feel something like a hand taking mine, to reassure me this is a path I should dare. A path forsworn, for how could one glimpsing not take it? An original tale, or at least origin story, in the making. So I dust off pages, old and new depending on the perspective, using only the breath given me, still filling my lungs. "We are in no rush here, just know that I've arrived. My aim is to find you, and you will find they say I do not miss. So speak your piece and I will listen,...

The sun is rising The weekend is wrapping up The thrill expired Days just come and go These days I only count time In terms of progress Glimpsing her in dreams Steps taken toward my soulmate The rest washing by Like a stagnant creek How does this realm persist so Whilst 6 feet under? It can't forever Is waiting game all that's left Loss the next move made? Others are aware Of this I have certainty Though only whispers What is it they see/know? Is there a way to glean it Or do they tell me? In every sunrise? In bylines of all I (see/hear/read/write) Does catalyst form?

So hard to pinpoint! Orange reminding me of storm As is the static Sites chasing their tails Today's "wise men" spinning theirs Cages and boxes Are these desperate signs? Signified by Earth's shadow And moon's shortest night? They don't feel desperate Mind set at ease by eclipse Eyes rest on blood moon Library spotlight Illuminating stories More like memories Is it still unfair Feelings turned to memories If we two agree? Paper lantern lake Dragon of Well in our sights Even on shared night For now feel ripples In advance of hurricanes Daydreams scooching real

The sun is shining As it has and will it seems Do days have no end? How is one to rest When such violent surges Reflect not without? Are these things costly? I know that each takes its toll Will dam break at once? Suddenly bets made Revealed unsustainable As table legs crack All into the pit Would you dive after your gold Or watch as it falls? A desperate tension Permeates every stronghold Still standing against Empathy wounds me What must it do to those struck That echoes sting so? The voice of my bride Crying treason as I wake Bitter, what is meant?

I was just reminded of something I once read regarding Waluigi being the ultimate "nowhere man," essentially a reflection of a reflection of a reflection, derived to the point where who he is can only be seen in who he is not. While the original poster seemed to see this as a dreary thing, one that applied to all of us, I was just considering this whilst overlaying it with a reality carefully constructed to appear free. In a reality where omnipotence and omniscience still exist but are carefully stitched that they occupy the margins for now, achieving true separation, rather than the appearance of separation, seems to be one of the most singular difficult and sought puzzles in reality, the "second roller," essentially one in Creation that God cannot control. This of course is a dangerous game to play as well, potentially (though I imagine the stage is set such that the choice becomes to stay or to go, rather than the chaotic destruction of all), but the game feels c...

A new image is coming to mind, quite early on a path I've walked before, but it feels like clarity has been gained- whilst dreaming in part, whilst drafting a new tale in part. As with most things I do, the tendrils are complex, but here is its essence: The concept of "twins" and timelessness is taking root. It is a Double U turn, happening at once without the ground shifting underfoot beneath me even an inch, aligning back to where I am now in a standing wave. Once stable, once focused, this shape is frictionless and functionally limitless in its growth... Then it is just a matter of defining the function. "Who's function?" indeed.

How might one go about forgiving that which one cannot recall? When amnesia is insufficient, for the one across this divide is loved, and to forgive is to cross it- it is for these sins I wonder. Memory is such a funny thing, often fuzzy, often kept externally. Could something be said for memory blooming externally that one cannot recall planting to begin with? If sins could persist as divides in this way, why could not the roots and vines of forgiveness grow into bridges? If one could be shot straight from the sky or live a thousand lifetimes, without memory of such things clouding mind today, certainly one can remember a great divide once forged, once forgotten. Evidence of these days, all these days, paint the sky. They paint the trees in fall, paint the flick of the wrist and flit of the thumb even as we paint our caves "ourselves." All the while a voice seems to be saying "I'm sorry." I know it because it echoes from and through me, but only as of late has ...

The sun is shining Each day marching in a line Though dreams feel different... A consistent day Paired with dreamscape reshaping Could this be the key? To the path I want? (Her (limited -.-) wish?) To the chest I desire? Treasures in heaven?  In any event No analogy can take The place of my bride So they might assist But lines have been tested through To prove her certain These things repeating How might one stop at the source These/stale petty attempts? 🤔 "Come new or don't come" Directions henceforth for tests Newness changing shape For her nothing new For me is unending spring For the rest walls build 

5/15/22 Update/Correction, it was that the eclipse started around sunset, though the coverage of the full eclipse does not start until 8:29pm. It does seem strange how difficult it is to get a straight answer on certain things these days... I just noticed that this upcoming lunar eclipse starts before sunset. This is fascinating to me, considering all the angles. It also means that it is the blood moon already in full which I will see rise on 5/15/22. Something about this seems so cool...

Nonsense erupting The Chaos Storm in full view My wits about me Is same said of you? Once slave with shoulders heavy One shrug and it's gone Promise land in view I will be entering it But different than you Where you see a smile I trees full blooming in spring Time And Space my bride These things through and through All pillars to hold up halls All blessed to walk them What is our headcount? To see such things to their end And begin the feast? Who's counting? Not I! Does it bring terror or joy That I lack answers? Fall or learn to fly New eagle's choice now all ours' (Tremors.Answers.Screeches.) Echoing 

The sun is shining No clouds seen from my window Just hazy blue skies Yesterday's failures Feel as though they filter off Sieved through unseen holes Can this work both ways? "Or how could it not?" In mind As thumb meets glass page ~"Neither seen nor known" Yet I am not of this world As is commanded With nothing I came If I leave nothing is (lost/gained) Who is to complain? Those with ears to hear Those with mouths silent so long Do you love the sound? What of work today? I'm in a gambling mood Let coin flip decide Today anyway Will tomorrow fallow fade? For time grows so short 

The sun is shining The temperature still feels cool Though May's underway Do you still love these? Daily updates, tradition? By field and by dream? I feel as though chained Some days each word is heavy And time feels wasted Is this the problem Or in timeframes like these should Time always feel short? Still my thumb traces Marking lines between each day To see promise kept What of work today? I'm in a gambling mood Let coin flip decide How does this scene not Get ripped apart by a mob Who has had enough? Will a new dawn bring A spirit renewed, refreshed Or more of the same? 

One last thing I remember from last night is that, as I was laying still awake but with eyes closed, I saw a (black, I'm pretty sure) cat sneak into my room. They ran over to my bed and jumped onto it, laying beside me. I never heard or felt anything tangible, but on some level I could feel the cat there next to me, and I was certain enough of what I saw with eyes closed for the image to slip from memory and then filter back in, without doubt, today. I am curious of this cat, black against the darkness, in mind rather than sight, in mind's eye rather than felt on skin. Additionally my dream beacon early last night was the same, but this time I saw the base of the pyramid receive a beam, and that beam extended from where I was in the center of the shape (wherever that was), through earth to another place where I imagined Hope being. I imagined that once that was connected and those realms were aligned into a straight line, I reconnected with my soulmate as I had done before, mak...

Well now this is tough Save for its simplicity. How does one get "Well?" How is one called "sick?" In these halls it is complex By one's own standards My skin is simple From my own perspective sick In need of healing But my mind? Not so. I have pinpointed my cure: My Doctor, at hand Does your opinion Carry the slightest of weight In halls of my home? Only that allowed By the owner of this house And those I hold dear So I harm you not And walk as I consider This Dragon of "Well" Does it know itself Like a template shining true In eyes of each "sick?" 🤔

I was just considering the river in Ezekiel again, as it feels like this vision has spoken to me several times, each time revealing something new, and today was no different. (Side Note Ezekiel 43:8-9 When they placed their threshold next to my threshold and their doorposts beside my doorposts, with only a wall between me and them, they defiled my holy name by their detestable practices. So I destroyed them in my anger. Now let them put away from me their prostitution and the funeral offerings for their kings, and I will live among them forever. This seems like another clever use of the term "them," as this could very easily be referencing the destruction of doorposts and thresholds, especially since, after God destroys "them," God then gives parameters by which God will live among "them" forever.) So today I pictured walking the river with Ezekiel and the man showing him around, and I began at their walk from the temple of God Ezekiel 47:1-2 The man broug...

The sun is shining Clouds wisp by to say hello A nice 89 (89°) It's the Day of Hope! 🥳 Every holiday's made up Why not have our own? I have my reasons Don't speak of popular vote Who cares in these (my/our) halls? On this Day of Hope I have already seen signs Halls shape together Rooms seen upside down Brick walls and liquor on lips Broken vows ended So let's wander so Away from these hollow things Tune our own station Fashioned in a *snap* For all these filaments laid Remember their roles Needing but a charge Polar coordinates to mark Boundary stones unmoved 

Is there a material that cannot be ripped apart with any amount of force but can be crushed, given enough force? I am picturing a puzzle (pertaining?) to such material, and a sphere of water moving like Spirit past horizons unseen and into places unknown to us here. Genesis 15:1 After this, the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision: “Do not be afraid, Abram.     I am your shield,     your very great reward."

The sun is shining A masterpiece of a day Feeling just ahead Dreams were fulfilling River crossed of unknown depth For a well placed lip For a keen driver For knowing when to hold on Taking the backseat Still sleep was scanty So day likely cut in half To rest a bit more Though I imagine Work will come, a constant drip Till faucet is turned Not till after(noon?/ 2?) When the sun starts its descent And moon is rising What dream will come next? With frequency left unchanged Will ramps stay the same? Will this work finish In most nonsensical ways Whilst talking a nap?

She can't help but wonder how green eyes shift Waking from one realm to the next these days "Does he drift on sea?" as dial turns swift "Or hear static like me?" radio plays Teeth flash in the night, just outside her door More sensed, yet unseen she swings said door wide "You know what they say, leave them wanting more." But with turn and smile they leave side by side How could time seem to stand still for so long? How could stranger so soon be feline friend Speaking in riddle and nonsense and song? So paired eyes shone same, beginning to end "That was not enough!" in unison cried Though each their own voice rang true and distinct A strange thing in such times, none there denied One found in absence, yet still somehow linked So starts their quest, with each their own reason: Find feline's source, and wake him in season

Would it be possible to seed a black hole such that its event horizon was essentially ferromagnetic material in stable orbit so thorough that it it might act energetically as a fast moving shell? If so, it seems like EM signal could then strike one section of the event horizon and then emerge from the opposite side of the black hole, from the event horizon, having successfully slipped the space between entry and exit. I'm also now wondering how this might differ for supermassive black holes where material might survive past the event horizon, and its direction through time from the perspective of our universe might no longer be linear or to be moving forward (and then utilizing this same idea of the Faraday Cage within that huge black hole, beyond said event horizon, allowing EM fields to pass from one side to the other in these same scenarios). If two planets were orbiting this black hole on opposite sides, each just outside the event horizon, their timelines would be running at t...

Will final round be Refreshingly less painful For these steps taken? Between song and dance Level of complexity Tears to blood to sweat Same steps different beat Do same eyes same players see Or shine differently? Signal tunes today The room itself keeps the beat Might two eat in peace? Does storm still guide steps Even as winds fade away No clouds in the sky? I can still find mud If uncleanliness must be For compass to point Likely not far off Footprints marked (I/o)n sand and stone Balance kept on each Broadly so at least I'm no stranger to scraped knees Or pearl seeds' scratch(ing)

Jeremiah 17:7-8 "But blessed is the one who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him. They will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." I was just rereading some of the prophecy quotes I have saved here and this one reminded me of an image I saw recently while laying in bed. From my wall I saw the foot (edge?) of a tree, and once I noticed it, the tree extended its roots toward me from where it was (from my perspective kind of in the wall, but when at the time it seemed like it was from elsewhere, superimposed on the wall) onto my bed. It seems as though this extension continued up over me as well, like I could sense this contact but not physically feel it in any way. Something about this felt so close, like the was a way to communicate through a portal that was virtually untraceable. I got the impressi...

The sun is shining Another day spent at rest Well, broadly speaking There's no work today And sleep is more plentiful For this I feel blessed Does the signal tune? I feel it intensify In specific ways Ways once heard allowed Though blessing hard to fathom "Wait, what!?" "Still confirmed." So as storm subsides But the tides intensify Pressure builds and stems Like a machine tuned Like a radio tuning Waves oscillating Not for tension's lack Not singularly building But for channels forged That we might both dance Not encumbered or slipping In ways we agree