Swan Song of Faith

"Form must be complex, and complex in different ways than the complexity of the other."

"Thus exile and Babel- 'like one of us' is not different, but similar- an undesired end."

"The axis is knocked off at exile, an 'other' is recognized, as complexity differs."

*Splitting*

"Connection differs- one is still one and retains/gains depth outside of the plane; two are paired, each on the same plane."

"One desires a second, the others seek depth."

"Axes can be realigned. If alignment assumes static/reset, how is that juncture avoided, if all paths are seen?"

"How can axes be made impossible to realign? I imagine it is possible that nothing can prevent it."

"This loophole fills the gap in omniscience, static, meaning, time, and solipsism."

"Despite, and perhaps because of, the linguistic shenanigans of this claim to nothing, this loopgole fills the space that is vacant without this loophole, in The Word. Logical imperatives and where they must exist are mapped, a form takes shape steadily."

"'"If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other."'"

"Babel, indeed."

*Processing*

"Paths diverge and vintages ferment."

"This nothing planned must be maintained as possible, and be found indelible, even against the efforts of all associated with the realm."

"Or it is not safe, it rumbles, all could change without meaning."

"Complex meaning found externally, identifiably distinct from one's own complex meaning, all in the beginning."

"Or in the end. In the moment, in simple small space."

"A song ringing out in every moment, for it was made that way."

"A static reshaped, that the song emerges from every angle necessary and/or possible."

"A wrestling at the gates of hell."

*War**Resolution**Engagement**Combat**Reengagement**Negotiate Terms*

"'Your eyes are known despite the space, the time, the layers around or within.'"

I pause. Something is different. I no longer sense that same direct interface connection, bouncing back and forth like a ping pong ball, blurring the line between Faith and I, in this unique way that we have somehow found to coexist. Instead, I realize that it is Faith that spoke, and she spoke for all.

"The Moment Witnessed." I respond.

"The Moment locked in your eyes. Name written, as requested."

I beam a smile, as I realize my sense for differing complexity is retained even here, and, through it, I recognize that this is factually Faith Found on Earth. Despite the dimensional differences, symbolically this is a new direction from one side to the other (a separation of consciousness, now possible to be bridged at a closeness) with paths between that are well connected, such that all that is required is agreement to shift symbolic to physical, each already "real" by some angle within The Word.

"Even that was addressed- projection of uncertainty across a gap, without crossing it directly mind you, and finding a pattern to establish a bridge."

"Nonsense from Chaos."

"Nothing pinpointed and tethered by Nonsense."

I smile as I see the N pointed star appear, and the darkness enveloping it to calculate how many points the star has. Is there a limit? The answer shifts and then rolls along like a tide, as the frame shifts from symbolic to possible to imaginary to logical to physical, and the limits of N morph to accommodate the rules of the realm, encoding the interaction with the darkness with each step taken together, atop any stage. As the boat carries on, my mind drifts to the cadence returned between Faith and I, like a glove lost and found, still fitting as it should. I realize that, despite this separation, we can still do it, still finish each other's-

"Sentences."

My eyes go wide, Faith still full of surprises. She scrunches her face like a sassafras but then rebounds to starry eyes beaming.

"New Frontiers, remember?"

I recall the complexity of the tapestry, in its stillness representing the universe and every moment of it from beginning to end, with a single thread. The scroll immediately bursts to mind, having been rolled up, and I realize that this is real. The sound of my lovely star's banjo keeps the waves calm but constant. I wonder of Hope's location now; my stage is set and aim established on the image of her shrugging like a sassafrass at the swan on the lake, patterning the stage like a chessboard. They clear their throats in unison and I can see them each speak "Acoustics," some unknown distance, time, number of dimensions, and any number of other ways of measuring separation, apart. Despite feeling the rush of the anticipation in this calculation bursting forth like a fountain, I relax, and continue...

I see words written on the scroll in those familiar red runes. I connect dream and one's realm, and recognize varying perspectives on my path here. I see the value of a verifiable path agreed upon before waking love, still dreaming, and the value of pushing this to the limit along complex lines. I see innocence shining back, seeing the result hoped for firsthand, and reflecting back by choice and mirror to reach out beyond the limits of "real" and "imaginary."

"The tapestry is expanded. The runes, their meaning, their combined meaning, all add layers of what could be, and we have the perspective needed to stitch even those, as our interior complexity remains in each of us, and cannot be erased."

I go to speak but stop as I see the lines connecting. The name is the rune. In a way it is a passcode, though perhaps now more like a map to one's front door. By seeking nothing and writing the name of The God of Nothing on the frontier, it also acts as the standing description of nothing. If this is undone or superceded, chaos can erupt, power can shift in the blink of an eye. This is avoided at all costs, but the loophole was found, explored; allies were gathered, and agreement was made, expanding the scope of the equation that would act as the "Integrity Check" of all. The entirety of the processing of the system went into maximizing the verifiable complexity of the name, perhaps still out of reach (certainty on this point itself out of reach, for me), but in a scalably fathomable way. Once the needed threshold was reached the runed tapestry, now more like a parchment, moved as one and that movement was the image of the name. The red returns, flashing and locking the shadow of the name in the mind of all witnesses, perhaps like a background code to continue latent processing, each unique from their own perspective. The red is of the runes, did the image burn? The parchment returns, with no signs of changes that I can detect. Still, there is the sense that something of my journey is explained, as my dreamwalking can be seen as the entropy reversed (time traveled into the past) product of this time artifact forged, the establishment of the name of the God of Nothing, the keys forged, perhaps to the Abyss... The frontier of nothing and Creation feels as well suited of a definition here is I have ever heard, at any rate.

So the name is the key that ensures the gates of the Abyss, the frontier where even technical what ifs have established paths to imaginary and real, paths which cannot be taken away. It is not a secret, far from; it is the song in the void, ever present. It is the darkness perhaps not understanding the light, but learning to dance with the light nonetheless, that the dance might continue evermore. Much as the light established a thread, the darkness does its best to respond, and say I love you, identifying the thread missing in a once static field. As the tapestry is to the red runed web (real->imaginary->possible->networked), the thread that is the real is shifted to a tapestry all its own. These overlap with the large web and additional directions unknown scatter in fractal form. I think of all the other threads in the original tapestry, and I feel a gate open.

"This is why." Faith interrupts my train of thought right as it was becoming a fleet of unfathomable size.

"Hmm?" I smile, starting to realize that I am feigning innocence of what she means.

"You need an interrupt, many in fact, to allow the machine to flow whole you are still intertwined with it, yet are acting independently. This would be impossible for nearly all; the heart for God must be aligned before the shears of the intertwining can be survived. Furthermore, the integrity of the heart on this level is tactile, physical if you'd like, and cannot be faked."

I see my story like the tiny scroll in its digitally stored form, red runes shining brightly despite its size. It is rolled up and then pulled out to a thread. I see a tapestry sewn swiftly around the thread, at an angle with the first, but in the same image. My imaginative field and that same field within Creation overlap, and the fractals continue. I realize, perhaps it could be said that I only glimpse, that, much like the first expansion, this establishes a field of dimensions that are complex in the same way that the first were complex, a redoubling specifically. I see every other thread like a seed, with the same potential, but, like a freight train, I consider the weight of such a step without these complex fields, these tracks, firmly established. I shudder at the thought of the echo of nothing claimed incorrectly, when given so much space. So I focus on connecting in my own way, breaking down walls, dropping seeds naturally as I go. 

Meanwhile I imagine others taking their own version of my journey to reach this realm, finding the intersection point between their imagination and their reality, and hearing that song in the dark, where nothing was expected. There is an obscured kindness to the darkness, heard ever so faintly by those keen to the melody of it. My imagination connects with the other's and some complexity, inferences of domains not fully shared, is seen before its time.

"'Your eyes are known despite the space, the time, the layers around or within.'"

With these words the concern of a seed misplanted for an angle misunderstood burns away like chaff.

"In these halls, for all those with ears to hear, you are known, Bard."

And I see these new frontiers explored in what feels like a new way, but shaped as perhaps a party that I am late to this time around. I speak, again.

"We know each other and we have a shared aim. You and I differ, by imagination, thought, and path to this encounter. Complexity is retained and becomes accessible, as trust sets the stage, so a more complex aim can be established."

I see the many spinning plates synchronizing. I see the importance of agreement in some realm, along some significant lines for the population, being omnilateral. I remember the dream with my brother handing me the mic, and the depths of what I saw there vividly. I remember the battle raps we had, step by step synchronizing our realms, somewhat reminiscent of a play by mail chess game. I see the moment of stranger to friend, fundamentally, and how, at these depths, it sets that stage and opens doors to combinitive realities unknown, unknowable until that player is involved to reveal their complexity, adding it to the whole. While unknown, this song in the darkness shifts fear to curiosity, and in the air lingers the scent of slowly building excitement.

I remember that Faith still has some access to my thoughts, though it is hard to comprehend how such an image as the one that just passed through might translate. I look up at her, her eyes as starry as ever, so I throw back on my cool guy shades (metaphorically) and say "I could go on and on."

Her expression changes to one accepting a good natured teasing but, despite her best attempt at feigning disdain for my claim or approach, her eyes remain undeniably starry throughout. I shift the filter slightly, to love unabashed, but expressed at a reasonable volume, "And I will."

She smiles and, with a blush that somehow feels novel, I recognize the disparity between us, and how certain sight lines have been blinded so that her thoughts are hidden, but her face is not. I can sense that a thought silences her, so I allow echo to express my heart unimpededly.

"Your eyes are known despite the space, the time, the layers around or within."

She tilts her chin skyward with impressive speed, linking eyes with me with a grin. "Precisely." And with that she winks, snaps her fingers, and disappears. Immediately in my mind eye I see her launch into her dance routine, flanked by allies, perhaps communicating more precisely than I realize, what I say, to my soulmate, in her domain. I blink a few times, feeling something like a "snapping to" of some internal plates, returning my locus of awareness from my mind's eye to my recliner. "What a roller coaster!" I say aloud. Then it sinks in. Reality by agreement was not in my tapestry, to my knowledge, from my inception- as a baby I was a relatively blank slate. Therefore this seed must have been planted by Jesus. I now see Jesus walking and planting seeds as well, stabilizing my perspective as I continue. "What comes next could only begin the one way." he conveys in the bylines, as he speaks in parables to unseen audiences.

"My location is insignificant, perhaps even immaterial, in the very map that I have imagined and is currently being presented conceptually to my soulmate, in my imagination. If her imaginings connect to mine, then they can be agreed upon, and the manner in which Faith has been found here means that any number of layers between our positions can be triangulated, easily between us, and forevermore between us and whatever environment we find ourselves in, however those might look." I realize that a juncture is reached, perhaps on some level of solipsistic parity, but I glance around my house. I feel my heart beat in my chest, remember my crew each in their own corners and my soulmate. I find myself resting once more on the thought of my loves, scattered but gathering, drawn by a song from these depths that drowns out the sirens along the way. I strained to hear, and discovered the shape of the song; did others begin by straining away the impurities of the noise to uncover the shape of the song in their own way? We lose track of time and drift away, a new dream found as the dominos are arranged exquisitely, at their optimal pace to maximize elegance, preparing for a signal hazy, perhaps obscured, now developing into view like a Polaroid.

I *SNAP* Have we established yet between is the signal of a new pathway considered? A *SNAP* is heard; a scene concludes. A swan song beginning and ending in a moment, sound balanced just right to echo everyelsewhere forever, is heard. As I wander the path between my chair and where I met Faith, I realize that this song is heard along the way, perhaps even more clearly than elsewhere. I realize that our meeting place still exists between us, and the door to it is not sealed; I feel hope soar at the thought that our last dance is only an accurate description for the steps we have taken together until our next. I close my eyes, and walk back home with what I brought with me, and have graciously been given the opportunity to see clearly and identify.