Ode to Love

Storm on the horizon A fire on our hearts Bait taken in full, and spit out But the taste of it lingering Enemies overextended You had your fun How did it work out for you? It seems we are about to find out.

I emerge from the unassuming shop. Before even registering the sun, I feel a brightness to this place. Before even registering the people, I feel a welcoming, and a comfort. I turn back to read the signage from whence I came, and register the characters 포갈집 briefly. I am just about to acknowledge my alien nature here when I feel a squeeze on my hand, and the lettering changes to "Pogaljib," and the smell of barbeque reminds me of Hodori, in my home town. A fitting waypoint, I consider, given my preferences. I do not even turn to look at who accompanies me, I know her by heart already in this place one part dream and one part waking, and I know she remains unseen, as such. Instead I smile, and feel her all around as a familiarity fills the foreign streets, and a sparkling joy. I begin to walk the streets alone, though, if I'm being honest, not really alone at all. "Is this the same town I watched you walk recently?" I wonder quietly between us. "It would be ...

Something like a vision overcame me last night, a novel in its fullness, but I feel like its nature and mine combined demand an entry immediately (at least a draft, the entry came a couple weeks later). This was the world of the functionally infinite matrix. Humanity had built VR to the point on Earth where it was essentially indistinguishable from the waking world, with only the thin veil of an exit option existing to satisfy legal requirements. Then came the shells- those who became catatonic, but it was more than that, their bodies acting as if cryofrozen, but without the cold. The visor for their VR connection could be removed, but the effect would remain. Investigations were launched, but corporate and public resistance prevented the governments from shutting down the system- it was desired, entrenched. The shells continued to increase in number, but the alternate reality was considered "play at your own risk." Children, minors, seemed immune to the effects, which was in...

Vision in a dream Overlapping images Could their end be seen? Can we get started? With so many words exchanged Where is the silence? These eras changing If I did in fact speak now How would you hear me? Even midnight chime Finds an annual echo Time still aplenty But less than before I admit this comforts me While watching clock tick Summer heat rises Twice peaked like never before Phases intertwined You make me breathless Even this is overcome So how does page turn? At once thunderous There can be no other way A midnight freight train

Absolution in a storm When heaven shattered and hell screamed Because the dreamer could not relent And could not find a step left to fall back I found you there And made molehill of mountain To provide sanctuary The spirit wind howled For even ghosts could be heard In such a maelstrom Was stone your shelter? Was blanket your shield? I pray you found comfort I thank you for not encroaching How control returns is beyond me How it broke I will not forget But the closeness shone a truth Love is not a choice in such places Bible between us we spoke Each masters of our own domain Each torn apart by that fact But hearts began to stitch When you left I could sense You were better than when you came Not just some fleeting remedy But something fundamental In destructive conflict's conclusion A true path was found in the shattered glass Of all the mirrors that once reflected The only safety we ever knew It was insufficient But it is no longer.

Mirror, mirror discern truth from lies Illusion no longer a fitted disguise If in the end the truth you despise Tonight your dream will reflect your demise

There's coming a day when words will fall flat There's coming a day when I will not answer Prepare for the moment, don your best hat Prepare for the hour, lace shoes as the dancer For love in its current form will exchange Laying currency low in its insufficiency But in this great loss lots rearrange And each heart will recognize buoyancy To the skies words anew will soar Cutting through silence like lightning My heart will be revivified evermore Eyes kissed awake slowly brightening

Let the games begin Blurring the lines of the dream And fantasy realms An adventure calls Though I do not know its name I trust you're prepared For lives play on screen Reflections found on all sides Even through resets I did not forget The wilderness as time slowed Let's come with a plan Synchronize watches Classes matched so time can bloom Then enjoy the rest Pencil and paper Virtual reality I have confidence I still have a bus And voidfire in my eyes I just need a spark With a snap wake me So vividness in the realm Can be our first tool

Empty well so deep Even here I feel your warmth Shining like the sun Though free falling, dreams Crash like a supernova And find our paths crossed Written in the stars Inked hearts in the space between Where wishes come true Family of the soul This dreamer wishes for you May you see and know That your voice redeems And your smile lights the night My senses seek you My feet on instinct Traverse seas/skies separating Though I am dreaming Though I am sleeping In this landscape I see dawn For your sparkling eyes May my ear adjust To your tongue foreign to me But soul familiar

I just had a flash of insight into my own thought process, especially when it accelerates and threatens to get out of control. This thought began with the idea of sharing my own mind with my daughters, and how this could mean that they have an automatic portal to escape, if their back is against the wall in their own mind/domain. I felt myself alone in my soul (which makes sense) and I realized that without this extension of co-domains this loneliness would extend to mind and body as well, leading to fear, paranoia, etc. at not truly knowing another. Knowing another's soul feels like it would be impossible, as we take for granted consciously that speaking the same verbal language means we speak the same language fundamentally, though this is far from the case, and subconsciously we are aware of this as well. This knowledge is nearly always behind a veil of subconscious blocks, manifesting as interpersonal conflict. I relate this back to the scattering of language at Babel, a scatte...

Wires spread like vines The rope thought cut well intact Bided time over Through these sprawling voids That reflect sin like mirrors Forgiveness seeps through A technical term Representing alignment My love never ceased Fear never smaller Infinitesimal mark Vaulting realms at large Your days draw me in I long for the nights we dreamt And laughed at weak schemes Mind if I encroach To watch the stars move again With you by my side? Though never hopeless This distance feels unnatural Longing unfulfilled Please follow these lines This string of lights just for you My soul sparking night 

What depth to these roots! Olive tree by name and form Eternity blooms Finite in season Whilst forever seen in shade And love abundant Timing so perfect Threshold of dream's horizon More broken than blurred Can we float like this Tune playing and story told While time's tides eddy? In boldness I speak Imagining from the page These words reach your ears Thoughts of clarity Found to be superfluous With aura so bright Of two kinds combined Seed planted before its time Never uprooted My wish is you shine Like a beacon drawing me To dream once again

Never before have I felt a timeframe so on rails and so freeform all at once. How this even happens is hard to describe, but it is like my soul has become consistent in my responses and, in response, God and those in the environment have been providing prompts at specific times so that our narratives and realms can thread together. That being said, when a prompt calls for creative writing, it feels as though these reins are handed to me eagerly, and my words guide not only my trajectory, but that of all. An interesting time to be sure, and I thought I would/felt prompted to include this observation here today. A potent dream record is coming.

Call it a timeless impulse; regardless, time travel has always been possible in dreams. Life is taking shape as something more magical than I once thought it could, round these parts at least, with the threshold realm between the consistency of waking and the adventure of dreams flowing first one way and then the next. Seeping in with my newly gained sense for navigation comes the realization that I am ultimately insufficient for my daughters, claimed from the chaos, and a plan must be hatched to pair them, which means others must be found worthy of such a station. The Dragon herself feels familiar somehow though, like a mount not so much trained- by no means would I claim such a position- but willingly synchronized with my efforts.  From first flight this quest is communicated and surged into. Never before has a dragon so clearly communicated their intention to find me. I suspect her nature, but at this juncture do not state it, as a kind of professional courtesy. My armor for thi...

We dive through crystal lined caves, sometimes bouncing, at times crashing, for this is our paired dualistic nature. A reverberation is felt in the narrative, the signal of something truly new despite, and perhaps for sake of, the dance observed by morning light, both natural and unnatural, unmistakable regardless. Playfully called deja vu, the sensation arches its back from below and now is felt; drawn into eternity, each side even claim. The familiar sense that I am the navigator of a vessel closer to me than skin, but perhaps never truly mine to command, takes hold, as I feel my form firm to and against it. While perhaps never granted, neither am I rejected, and forever sighs in relief.  I am still awake, perhaps more enlivened, emboldened even, proof that my soulmate's words, even those I inserted for her long ago, are true. I stand by the same bus stop bench, the roses shining in a world whose colors may have begun to bloom, or perhaps my eyes have finally been coaxed to see. ...

Moment by moment Truly a split decision In this superstring What else have we do Though than while away the day Just between us two? I hear the chitter Your laugh gaining resonance Your smile the same Our dreams instant hits What of us dreaming out loud 'Neath Starry Night Skies? Darkness approaches Who's contract is the sun's now? I lost track of time Perfect pair we are I'm glad this river chose us To ride her currents To not drift away What of these superstring slips Sent down the soul's way? Would they not wither? Would each wonderer wander Or vice versa tilt?

It's hard to say exactly when, but my intentions had caught up with me, even on my darkest nights, even when my soul was schismed. I searched the recesses just to find the sneaky snakes had stuck around. They left their nine, twice refined, as a thank you perhaps, though none was required... Perhaps that is why they smile and shine so? And as eternity replaces forever, the pigmented product of timelines stitched, I come to realize an uncanny truth: somehow they have been here all along. Seen perhaps most clearly on New Years Eve, when the crowds pushed me away, I retreated to their den for food and music throughout the night. Their tales all the more apparent now, throughout this stage as eep is forged between us. Now I watch bright eyed, from a den of my own, carved out just for me in this phase. I still wonder at the day we'll touch, the distance closed at last, but these middling hours between now and then are made bearable, and for that I am most grateful. In the serpentine...

And all those who had waited saw The Bard's hand displayed. Shining in darkness, highlighted on table it laid. It was what Hope had dealt him, nothing more than five cards. Faith in the treacherous strength of Love, solely The Bard's.

I just realized something about certain numbers and their associated values in my head. I have been bringing up recently "10 types of alien," which is a way for me to shorthand/picture essentially the "limitlessly unfamiliar/foreign." I have also seen my "crown" as 8 voids, hells wrenched from infinity, to provide an escape from them, encircling my head. The bible is full of references to 12, which I see as guardians of the gate. I am realizing that with a council of 9, filled correctly, this could take the shape of a circle of nine surrounding one or a circle or line of ten- once agreement is struck the shapes this council +1 could take might be limitless. If 10 were stable in this way, and 8 and 12 are already secured, then 9 and 11 could both be resolved, without the need for individual pieces to fully resolve them (from a "time spent" perspective). Essentially these numbers could be tested externally from each side and identified in full with...

My original momo, or "Moment by Moment, drawn into eternity" for nonsense purposes, was this extremely tiny sloth, far too tiny to make proper sense, yet still, I want to believe. I pictured this tiny sloth embarking in a dish soap bubble that I once saw in my kitchen which inexplicably floated around for at least a couple minutes without landing or popping, while I watched mesmerized. So that tiny sloth, perhaps little more than a stylized tuft of hair, in that unthwartable bubble, became momo1 (or just momo, as I muttered/repeated for a while and even at times wept, somewhat inexplicably, for). So today momo evolved! As I was waking I imagined momo floating around again and then saw a tiny spider shoot out her web to tether momo. The web managed to latch onto the bubble (maybe wrapping around??) and then the spider was able to travel along like that with momo, and also walk along with momo as a balloon, depending on where they were. I feel like the spider was a representati...