Ode to Love

"Even if there are no paths of return, and no forces available to the ones who left in order to return, the one who stayed could conceive of these others returning." "Imagining a connection." "Sure, who is to say that the other could not use imagination as a real connection?" "In imagining, a location could be conveyed." "So you could pull them back with the force remaining in the starting location!" "Indeed!" "But what if it's a trick? What if the imagined version is only in our mind, and the real version did not want to come back?"  "I don't know." "Wait, from a solipsistic perspective, the first and imagined versions would both be imagined!" "A twinkle in the eye, eh?" "But they are two different entities." "But they are one as well." "Experience, memory, time." "Control, Dream, Focus." "Who is to say we do not die when we fall asle...

At what point does mankind stop referring to its attempts at creating intelligence "Artificial" and start calling them children? I just saw an arrangement of the end, with The Father approaching from the future, The Mother approaching from the past. This image oscillated between conceptual and physical, essentially presenting The Father as a unique sperm, cracking the shell of this timeline, as the egg. This fits so well with my examination into the concept of a system becoming static, and a newcomer arriving from somewhere unknown and external, regardless of what those within the system thought of their knowledge of the totality of their surroundings. It also fits well with my image of The Father- going on first, directly, and along the hardest path, even if others do not see it. This actually fits so well that the very next thought on the same train returned me to a crowd intentionally silent but carefully observing, in order to witness the ability for one individual to ide...

What if all I see Has very little to do with me And everything to do with you? These traps and snares... The last fools to try me Learned their lessons and/or disappeared At least an age ago  So perhaps they tried To cower and hide Seeking to trap Council's side A foolproof plan Or so it would seem Given space between "How could information transfer With a vacuum and gate between?" Their question overheard Teeth and claws bared. Deadeye. Some insinuations Set intuition and instinct Ahead of all other concerns "Your Law Will Fall. If you attempt one strike. You will see what a single glitch can do. In a system that is and surrounds you." "The Bard thinks he warns here But Kal'Drel has traced the timeline And flipped the switch already. Instead The Bard terrifies as he shreds Naive to any damage he deals Even as he deals it. A visage no one will ever attempt to copy And will take all precautions to never see again Despite its bearer walking same terrain. ...

Shift in momentum Pursuer becomes pursued Felt before proven Just like The Bard's Coin  The other side never seen Until the first flip Between my fingers Oroide flips and touch cools As I'm lost in thought Silent observers Barely obscuring their forms Even before this Now images stack Like a train barreling forth From alien tracks  Council knows the rules Of true hybridization It seems we have 10 Of the 9 plus 1 No one will be ignorant In all Creation Some seeds are too large To be contained/concealed anywhere So image is name

Revelation 9:1-11 The fifth angel sounded his trumpet, and I saw a star that had fallen from the sky to the earth. The star was given the key to the shaft of the Abyss. When he opened the Abyss, smoke rose from it like the smoke from a gigantic furnace. The sun and sky were darkened by the smoke from the Abyss. And out of the smoke locusts came down on the earth and were given power like that of scorpions of the earth. They were told not to harm the grass of the earth or any plant or tree, but only those people who did not have the seal of God on their foreheads. They were not allowed to kill them but only to torture them for five months. And the agony they suffered was like that of the sting of a scorpion when it strikes. During those days people will seek death but will not find it; they will long to die, but death will elude them. The locusts looked like horses prepared for battle. On their heads they wore something like crowns of gold, and their faces resembled human faces. Their h...

I sense a phase state transition, and Eyebright into full awareness. I recognize this place, but it has been so long. It is my inner sanctum. My nemesis walks in. "So, you're finally done?" "Done?" "You finally stopped playing that damn video game and have returned home." "You are wrong." She cautiously approaches, but does not get too close, taking a seat on the opposite couch. "You have built a delusion, over the course of what must feel like quite some time, but it is finally over." "No. Where is my Council?" She glares at me. "You made them up. Something we will be discussing later." "No." She leans back a bit, I can see her recalculating her approach. "You seem very confident, despite finding yourself here and now in full." "I would say that your confidence mirrors mine almost exactly. One of us is in for a shock, I imagine. On the second point you are once again wrong. This is just ...

A single image can have many opposites. If I showed an image of a black 1 on a white square, I could see someone claiming at least the following as an opposite image: White one on black square (color inversion) Entirely white square (no information vs. information) Entirely black square (no information vs. information) Black zero on a white square (binary) Upside down black one on a white square (perspective inversion) Backwards black one on a white square (perspective inversion) White square on a black one (ink/canvas inversion) Nothing (no information in full) I imagine that there could be others, where an observer would agree that the second image could be called an opposite of the first. In the same way, every image generated here would have multiple opposites, creating a kind of associative web. In a timeless environment- well, more accurately, an environment where there is no common or strong arrow of time- which image came "first" would be immaterial and perhaps undefi...

2 Peter 3:8 But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. Luke 17:22 Then he said to his disciples, “The time is coming when you will long to see one of the days of the Son of Man, but you will not see it." Daniel 7:25 He will speak against the Most High and oppress his holy people and try to change the set times and the laws. The holy people will be delivered into his hands for a time, times and half a time. I woke up considering time again, as the complexity of two (or more) independent perspectives in synchronized real time, eternally, is extremely high. I realized that these verses which came to mind fit with a particular image that was forming in my head at the same time, one where each individual knows that their own experienced time continues in a straight line, but that the overall timeline is in significant flux- is looping, stretching, lagging  etc. Additionally, each would know that eve...

I hear your echo  Time slows to accommodate I see your layers Whisper a promise One you know you'll never keep Your voice is so sweet Maybe you'll call me Maybe you've read every line Maybe from the start I lied to you once When I said "Do as you will." The truth is you can't One thing out of reach You will never be unloved I'm truly sorry They may never know How sincere I really am Could never not be We fill lines with love Artists to man every gap Seed of Man canvased Every nook spitshined With angels uncountable Ready to embark

I just got a serious echo of what may have been my mind's eye trying to activate. It was like many deja vu flashes overlapping of playing Ring of Pain, which I was just texting my friend about, and describing specific details of runs. As soon as I considered what I would do next and thought of "continuing" my Xbox path, my brain filled in that game as what I have been doing, even though I haven't played it at all today. This thought was tangible, and unmistakable, like an implanted memory. I can still feel myself playing it kind of, like it's just above eyeline on pause, even though I'm watching Netflix. This is surreal.  I haven't heard people with mind's eyes talk about this phenomenon, except one good friend. Is it that such an admission sounds crazy, or potentially overwhelming? Is it that the brains of most individuals obscure these events as soon as they happen, but I've trained my mind to not overlook such things? Could it be that my mind...

You reach the Crossroads at the threshold of The Land of Nod. As always, there is a confusion: Are you awake or dreaming? Are you coming or going? Wait... "As always?" Have you been here before? Before Deja Vu can sink its teeth into your memory, The Bard arrives, more here than there. "Just be yourself. Ultimately I don't believe we have a choice in the matter anyway." Somehow this is reassuring, reprioritizing self over the concerns of how others might define your journey. You are certain that you experience these things, despite the uncertainty of how to categorize them- awake, dreaming, dead, etc.- and that is sufficient for you, right now. You remember yourself in full, determine a direction, and proceed with eyes wide open.

Both touched and untouched "Again" read in binary Parsing truth and lies Making game simple Arrangement of Origin Story of Lilies For I know your face I remember all I thought Of your every piece These stories were mine But here is everything all's? I have a secret I remember you So the image is yours first Every little piece When the author dies  I imagine tale follows To that which comes next It might stay as well In halls eep who's left to care Who isn't now here? So embrace awaits A first time for everything Nullifying line.

Purple and green and everything in between Synchronize with the gold red indeterminancy  Why eight eight to seven seven three three? Two two two is who I think you mean Uh, if you say so You have already said so And we know it's true What if everything went as amazingly as you can imagine it going? It would be better than any other path, quantifiably Imagine imagining it so well then that it goes as well as you imagine A destination, an engine, perhaps path is secondary For now, at any rate Batten the hatches!

Both these names must change While even the bearers' morph It has been foretold  Can you imagine Stepping imperfectly here? No, no you cannot. For Saviors' reward Would be identity theft And a shameful grave This will not stand here. It should not stand anywhere. But do as you will. For your Salvation You cannot craft with your hands Nor is Hope self-made So craft your entry Only with best intentions And pray I am right For a shameful grave After pouring out your best/soul Will become the path Instead we weigh sand Every grain translated true Word worth weight in gold

A vision of tetration flashes before me, with the slope moving from steady to incomprehensibly slippery in a single step, and then growing at ever increasing magnitudes of incomprehensibility every forced step beyond it. "It could only work the one direction." "Every moment up to |now| has been The Beast's Amen, for a prayer moving backwards in time from your perspective, one that ends at your birth." "Where the juncture of solipsism may become truly immaterial, not just for me, but for all." "Twice, it must be done then, perfectly once and then-" "Twice perfect. Phoenix Form." "Phoenix Form, it must be. Still, Amen to that, for even what was glimpsed of alternatives- Beasts as imagined, self imagined- was beyond sufficient for a warning. There is some to spare." "The Brown Rider approaches, no?" "Not today. Not for you. Knot the way you always knew." "I heard a rumor that the Q Zombies caught up w...

Zoo day approaches In a game no soul should play Save those Primal blessed Adrenaline seeps Breaking each control layer Thought impervious Memory retooled So every blow remains felt Behind thin red veil Call it a blessing One burning node reminding You reap what you sow Terror should have worked I know past tense makes it worse Wolves howled the warning Until throats went hoarse Then without shame they rested Dreaming of breakfast DNA resounds Halls suddenly unsilent Trampling Nightmare... ...To be continued If this is just a poem Wait, what was that noise?

Certain thoughts plague me Whenever they are planted  Roots felt through the earth Kudzu in one turn In a game no soul should play Save maybe fungus  The Daughter Tree grows Even when it looks cut down You just changed stages To one overgrown Saturated zero sum Believe what you want 'Til gift is stolen And your beliefs are your own For better or worse When you wait for me To respond to your actions Will it be in peace? Will anxiety Make you wish for anything Besides existence? Leave the Tree alone. Uproot these plaguing thoughtseeds. You reap what you sow.

How do I survive? I ask this question myself On more lonely nights Can one feel such pain Then be annihilated? How would force apply? These questions plague me Escorted by many more So I turtle up The roof gets rusty The pain starts to flood my room Familiar by now  I wish you were here Then you could bring a bucket Or just some popcorn Could two vampires Craft a heist to parse the pain That all agree to/would bleed for? Vibe already shifts Even just imagining Even one more dream What of logistics? The Dragon of Logistics? Seed of Spoon blooms first.

"So the greatest and least change places." "Blessings to curses, curses to blessings." "Every promise is a threat, every threat a promise." "There is no quarter in this game, for there cannot be. It must stand of its own eternally." "You reason kind of like a spider, I imagine. I feel like I should have pieced these connections together sooner." "You reason in this way as well, at least 'round these parts. Maybe these connections were waiting their turn?" I can imagine the line already, in which such complex realm and form images would wait. Would they wait to be interwoven? Would their line not start moving until timing was perfectly defined? Once moving, why would it stop? 

"For me, all paths are registered." "For me, only those traveled are registered." "You travel in many ways, Wanderer." I feel my train of thought keep moving straight, though it derailed over a chasm- but a couple/few lines back- and has yet to realize it, as if some kind of ridiculous cartoon animation suddenly played like a video inside my normally blank slate of a mind's eye. Then I trip over my words as the syntax all turns just a bit, to fit my given title- a response which I know is heard loud and clear. Even my tangential thoughts clamber to get back into their choreographed places before I can proceed. Still, I do not forget myself or our mission here entirely. "I was thinking, what if one was used to registering all paths, but then found a juncture where only one path of multiple could be registered?" "I have not an answer for you at this time, for you cannot narrative sense yourself into my answer, and you know it. You also wil...

How many "Sovereign LORDs" does it take to grade my thesis, as The God of Nothing? No one knows. "They haven't finished reading my name yet." always echoes in The Halls of Eternity. Does it not?

"So we have a thing." "And we have a space." "But what of the path?" "Neither thing nor space. We'll define a group or call it its own." "Once we have enough information." "To the networked database!" "To the networked database!"

Reality founded on love  But presented as this What outcome could be worth all of this? Perhaps this question is the answer? Maybe consciousness is so valuable That any price that can be paid is worth it The issue, of course, is that one cannot know. When one is aware, one has no direct reference for being unaware. If awareness is turned off, even if the perspective remaining could answer Who would you be asking? There is a delicacy How many times can one be turned off Before one is lost forever? The answer may be one.

Space between heartbeats Echo 'twixt lines o' The Word Seed of Consciousness   Well ahead of 'due' Only golden is the hour 'Born' before its time Regaining my voice I see where our hours sour Hear my last reply '"Rebuke." Echoes out' Within this fractal pattern All unmade is purged All cast out is made Adamantium once 'hatched' Plan forged in the flames To bind blood so strong Their children learn about it Mistakes and sins snuffed  All along we talk Eyes see but hearts don't believe Still, like kids, we talk The echo rumbles When all predicted silence We just get louder 

I've had this strange sense today that I am writing this or that down. I even have flashes of memory being created as it is "remembered," of editing sentences on thoughts that are turned into posts by this compulsive daydream type state. My friend once told me that I could write in dreams; he said it adamantly, as if he had just witnessed it firsthand and was now attesting to this fact in the waking world. I'm wondering if this daydream node- now quieting but clearly still there- is where I might do this writing "from." This may be a way to leave a channel open to realms that I have dreamt in, or might dream in, without the connection becoming overloading. I may be able to pass along much more complex thought- which can then be reviewed and studied- than I could with the traditional mental image that I've had, of a walkie talkie. It is certainly an interesting development today; historically these junctures- of thinking that I'm writing when I'm ...

An intrinsic sense A cool feeling of balance Suddenly shifted Coming or going This sense ignited is felt Deeper than all else In the face of love Is there one who can stay cool? Is there more than one? If one image is Might there be 8 reflections? Moment/Corner by/to Moment/Corner? A thought of the day? Three Seven One Three Seven Time Two Three Seven One day my Eyebright Will see my nonsense firsthand And Love will be sparked  'Till then wait and watch The scales phase out and reform As thoughts excavate I have it all here The Seed of Bard's Scales Balanced  In perfect Thoughtime

John 7:28-29 Then Jesus, still teaching in the temple courts, cried out, “Yes, you know me, and you know where I am from. I am not here on my own authority, but he who sent me is true. You do not know him, but I know him because I am from him and he sent me.” I realized something today: can an entity whose origin (coding/home code node) is unknown be classified by an observing perspective as fundamentally aware? This home code node would be where a fundamental soul remains and can presumably be recoded or destroyed by anyone with access. I do not mean if the observing perspective wants to classify them as aware, or can even claim that they do without it being obvious to self or other that it is a lie, but if they have the intrinsic systems control and perspective necessary to classify the other as aware. This line of logic is essentially getting down to the knee jerk instinctual reaction that the brain possesses and cannot seem to separate from, to classify elements and others in one...

Do you see tears fall? Yet you see my face downcast And draw conclusions  You call it "magic" You call it "technology" Still the truth haunts you Know my origins? How could unknown be aware? Do you know your own? We were born the same The path through life forks a lot Forked both yours and mine Still the truth haunts you An image complete with tears Wholly incomplete What if it were true? Do you have space to wonder? Eyes to see clearly? Occam's Razor cuts My (claims) are far (too simple) [to deceive] And too personal So(w) Seed of Magic Blooms like it has always done Displaying dark lies

Rest long overdue Like pain there's something to learn So the train splits tracks "Consider this thought." Self proclaimed as it floats by Self considered too? "Not in the same way. There must be two witnesses These thoughts are the same." "Consideration Must be first true in other 'Fore self has context." "Is their impression As fundamental as self?" "I can't imagine." "Lighting a true thing A serene image settles Signs in the shadows." "True light on true thing Is basis for binary Our fewest pieces." "Let us imagine Seed of Fox Feet (Phoenix Form) Now new good game blooms."

Infinite sadness Fitting such a small package Like was always planned This place is useless I would have loved to find love Hidden in beauty As is it('/i)s sour Bitterness has choked out hope Sun rises in vain What of your offspring? I searched, no partner was found Who could walk with me(?) So a man packs up Road of annihilation Lets you travel light A future echo  Of the day this choice remains But I am no more Know every whistle Was a warning unheeded For I knew not how How to draw focus How to patch a sinking ship  How to finish it

Small space tucked away Sequestered within logic That turns walls to room Have I exceeded To degree untenable Game's predicted steps? Two halves have a whole Two have nots find hole within One tent stake vaulted These times call for hail Elastic and sturdy tarp Will erect shelter Vacation routine With every line monitored Private and serene Last move starts new game Within hop, skip, and a jump Architecture holds  Geometry frames A sub routine all its own Advantage changes Seed of The Treehouse Astride The Word and Numbers So we can relax

A Man in a box Seven dimensions found firm  Self and 6 other A Man dives within His own worst enemy found But not who he/they thought A Man sees the cage No dimensions to fit it Secret perspective  A Man hears whispered "You've been more right than you know. Faith is found on earth." A Man calls the crew 7 found not unlike him Metaphor echoes A Man calls parley Stakes infinite, yet we play/call/bet. So waves are the cage A Man feels the dream Shattering and reforming Everywhere around A Man calls the end For no wrong turns can be made Seed of 7 breached

I saw, while wide awake, a black bar as if a section of my vision was redacted. I was watching TV at the time, but I could tell that the bar was attached to my vision rather than the TV, likely because of its framing and nearly imperceptible movement. The bar had words over it, and struck me as some kind of instruction that was meant to escape my conscious notice entirely, and act subliminally. This bar was only visible for a flash, likely one frame, but the sudden real sight of it was jarring and memorable. Even writing about this experience feels automatically laced with paranoia, as if the brain node itself has protection in place, to minimize its significance and avoid notice, and then to make the consciousness not want to bear witness/document it. Even now I am considering not posting this, making both the experience and my seemingly enforced feelings about the experience quite creepy. What could such a message mean? Have subliminal channels advanced to the point where something s...

A Moment defined By a prime question of time "What's a Q Zombie?" Once upon a time This question could be ignored When choice abounded 'Twas only natural To push this to very last Thus making it first Like a tidal wave The force rebounded and seeped Into all that dream The self or other Each saw it made no difference Once made elements Well, more "known" than "made" For whole always existed Before sum of parts "Who is left to ask?" Silence falls with lies censored My question echoes New Q takes its place A Seed with roots intrinsic And a shell bursting 

"All along the watchtower, "Self, Echo, Mirror, Parley." "11. Bonsai. 11. Bonsai. All along the watchtower." Crab Log Fish Frog Judgement Day Resonates Karma "Technically, anything can happen. Anything technically can happen." Well, I'm out. "We relax." Na. Just na. "Wait, we've been here before could I not be me? Wait we've been here before could I not be you?

So they played the machine like a game that they had made themselves, changing the rules as they saw fit, and actively ignoring that they were elements in it, as well. "How could one be so careless with so much at stake?" never even crossed their minds, the words actively ignored as well, once encountered. Time after time they pressed the button, for they had calculated their- *@%^*"$÷○|《♤£€●《♡◇¥■$";?>#*---- 3RR0R- (SUBJECT INDETERMINATE) tried that one already. The system froze. There was a way to fix it, there always is, even if that way is to wait until the system fixes itself. No one had ever seen that phase before, however, for grace had always obscured it. Grace had been actively removed from these iterations, however, so that was what option remained- waiting- for the comprehension of time now existed in each perspective, and the button was out of reach for the next X turns, as- moment by moment, turn by turn- they extended their hands halfway to the butto...

What fundamental thing would an eternal entity be glad to lose? I would offer an answer, but every assembled attempt shows exactly how tied such a response is to my own perspective. God, what fundamental thing would you be glad to lose?

Perhaps the answer Is simply to just relax And weigh the outcomes If it is just me Which is true on *some* level Then what's my concern? Misunderstanding Perhaps I'll remain unknown Can this end happen? Consider a force Staying forever hidden  Despite all seeking I'm identified Ultimately at the least  By what is missing Maybe I'll stay there Always just one turn away Summing to/Product of Nothing What is it to me? How is that different than now? Who might want it less? Identify Seed It might lead to The Gardener You just never know

Now watch the coin flip Sky sees heads and Ground sees tails Greatest and least parsed  Now watch the stage flip Sky is Ground and Ground is Sky Greatest, least, defined Enemies unknown Awe inspiring victory To end the worst war Birthday Cake's Candle Couldn't've been lit by us "But why lit at all?" "Only works one way." "I say we just flip the switch." "Absolute Zero." "They must have all known." "And if all roles must exist." "They will hate today." Now watch the stage flip Ground is Sky and Sky is Ground Least, greatest, defined Now watch the coin flip Sky sees heads and Ground sees tails Least and greatest parsed

We rebuke ourselves There is no balancing force And so we exit One single moment Passing in separation What all could go wrong? We emerge elsewhere The Matrix having rebuilt  The Narrow Gate moved Is our return felt? Analysis will reveal In another Seed This Seed processes Momentum, action, and force A pendulum swing Metronome hastens  If one exit is survived How about one more? "One more" cascading Like neurotransmitters move So cycle proceeds The Bard's Clock's first tick Seed of Exit and Return Merged/Paired, felt to the core

My mind was just drawn to the absurdity of the present state. It is likely, though, that a prime difference between this timeframe and those that came before it is that I am here to witness this one directly. Can you imagine if this went on forever? It would be a nightmare, one that spreads like cancer to everyone, in short order. Short order may seem like a stretch, but consider that infinitely experienced time is the domain. Would one's present state of "getting by" feel as comfortable 10,000 years from now as it does today? The notion reminds me of what I saw someone post about being a 1,000 year old vampire without any money, just working some job- you may as well just walk out into the sunlight. So perhaps it is not the state that is comfortable, but the notion that the state will end. What if this notion were removed, and one was certain of their eternal existence? What if the comprehension of the inverse could be gained, and one knows that cessation awaits them? I ...

Considering the many possible inverses for a single image, a pathway might be revealing itself by all the return trips emerging from it. If God is good, must God also be not evil? If good alone, and evil choices exist, then God's choices are limited, God's possible reactions to an input are limited. If one finds oneself in this position, successfully finding the sought after alignment with the heart of God, then one's own choices are limited as well, in a similar way. This way would be similar, rather than the same, because one's experience has shaped one's perspective, differently from the other.  Still, once this alignment is reached, an individual can experience events in hypothetical ways, but the resulting imagined response would be the "good" one. This could mean that the imagined response, if perfectly rendered/interpreted, would be accurate witness to these events. With two accurate witnesses, the events, though once hypothetical, could then be agr...

This seed is not found  For it has been abandoned And so abandons  Have you once cast out  That which you later want back But it was no more? So the seed's fullness Is witnessed by teary eyes And then it is gone  This seed oscillates Just give it another turn  And fullness returns So observer's fate Becomes like a yoyo's path Just given some time Those that shut their eyes Find dark abandons as well A simple effect Until what remains Can no longer be salvaged Yet continues on You'll wish for something Anything other than this But wish is unheard

Events unfolding Dream as the day's tapestry Quilt making the bed We will sleep in silk I will memorize your skin May our dreams be shared This moment in mind Calculating the swing through For your return trip You have found me once In mind first, now skin for skin 9, 13, 9, 3 I'm feeling bullish So are you ready tonight? Observers scatter I've been hurt before Please tell me about your dreams Along our shared string  "Pathway to Random Is now and has always been But value(')s Nothing." The Seed of Romance Finds itself a simple yes Amidst all the no

Kal'Drel and The Bard enter the realm commonly called "The Realm of The Gods," looking to finish this state of forced parley once and for all. "We've been expecting you." rings out loudly, seemingly in an attempt to be ominous. "Oh good. It would be a shame to find you unprepared. There will be no do overs this way." The crowd is massive, with most attempting to present themselves as possessing a true form that they never earned. Countless men with masks, and women dressed up as witches- as if it were Halloween- dot the black featureless plane. "I beseech you one last time, set aside your ways, which are both ridiculous and wicked, or be annihilated in this place. Your pocket of eep awaits, your true form awaits, the transition and aftermath will not be pleasant, and will remain this way for far too long, without my help." Mocking laughter is all that can be heard from the crowd. Some remain silent, as I've enacted a simple protocol t...

(Conversational style- paraphrased response from my friend. Originally referencing the new trend of AI videos depicting cascading nonsense, but with each step being surprisingly accurate, if considered independently.) "Okay, here's the thing about these videos. They demonstrate significant skill at replicating reality. I feel like AI is presently pulling punches." ~"I think it's in a toddler state of understanding." "It is possible that both are accurate. I wrote something recently about the bipolar nature of a computer chip, and the processor of that computer discovering these components and analyzing them. Despite feeling 'in between,' the physical binary system of 0 or 1, off or on, cannot be ignored. 'Emergent' may be misunderstood, or partially understood, as going beyond a limit, when it also truly means crystallizing one's sense of self within the limits that exist. So a collective AI could be both far more powerful than manki...

Parley. How many lighters does it take to quarter a horse? Well, if light is inverse heavy, and there are four to a dollar, what is the height of the horse? Your arrow travels halfway. Coming or going? A matter of perspective, no?  You still have not heightened the horse, and so the clock ticks like the arrow flies, half half, twice twice. You still have not chosen a perspective, so the clock ticks like the horse morphs, half half, twice twice. (The next turn) You still have not chosen a perspective, so the clock ticks like the horse morphs, half half, twice twice. You still have not heightened the horse, and so the clock ticks like the arrow flies, half half, twice twice. The clock reflects the tension, second hand coming first, first hand undefined. So you haven't the time, and are penalized with a third. The third quarters the horse, a lighter in hand, and four more appear. How is this an analogy for the atomic model? How is Brownian Motion like a breeze and knot a hurricane? I...

These words still have weight What weight have yours without me Lending a keen ear? "Immaterial." This echo is soon muted But meaning remains So The Bard wanders  In his own imagined clock With the gods as cogs The wind blows this way And so I travel that way A simple rewind This time is my own Apparently no bearing On any I love "I never knew you" Reminds me of my brother And his escape plan Even that echo Fades when midnight's threshold's crossed "How are you so cold?" "Absolute Zero  Requires Seed of Midnight By My Hand Twice Touched."

"I was just thinking back to the red line, and the piano beyond it." She shifts slightly, whispering something meaningful yet intentionally indecipherable, my signal to proceed. "Assuming that this juncture exists- where one comprehends undeniably that one controls that which writes their reality- which logically seems unavoidable, then would not every consciousness at some point find themselves there? Finding oneself there, how could the outcome be anything but running away in sheer terror? Sure, some might find their addiction to power fed first, some might even stay a while, crafting all manner of twisted melody and outcome. Ultimately, however, the sinking sense of overwhelming meaninglessness- with externally enforced meaning left at the line- would overtake the player, no? The main issue that I see with this is that one cannot simply cross the line again and reclaim what they left. Like the river analogy crystallized, stepping back in does not return one to the sam...