Rumbling Prelude

The juncture of conception, approached from the realm of pure logic/Logos, is when an idea is so palpable and complex that it requires a separate entity to process it. Conception feels automatic at this juncture, reflexive, in the same way that the desire for sexual reproduction can take hold and mute other logic. This is like a complex clockwork that creates a new independent perspective every time it aligns in its environment, reminding me of the female menstrual cycle. What lesson am I meant to take from this insight, as a man? If my clockwork is not so clear within my body, where is it? The Bard's Clock feels like the ordonnance of this reproductive energy, into something that does not force itself into the domain of another, but becomes ever more unavoidable with each cycle as others try to sidestep it.

Perhaps this iteration of reality is meant to be my saddle, Hyperbolically.