Meandering Hexes

For each seed of sin

There is a flower of forgiveness

To forgive falsely is human

To forgive in full is divine

The wheat and weeds flow naturally under this breeze.

"Is separation sufficiently sin in such context? If so, we might lay here until the 11th hour is nearly up, and watch machine bloom and wither both wheat and weeds, of its own accord, to each their own."

"The fires of time burn brightest at our camp."

Just like that we have found our island and set up camp in the realm of The Word, all but flooded now, in this season. "Beresheet Bara Elohim" still etched on the tiny hill in the center, with words spreading every which way beneath us, we set ourselves down.

There is a mental eddy, like a breeze through brown mane. "That's both of us by the way. Just speak freely."

So we lay on the blanket, looking up at the stars, only partly obscured by the dancing flames. We wonder aloud, first at their positions and then at what they might represent. "Everything represents something, someone perhaps."

"Conceptually, when The Bard's Cage is identified, anyone with omnipotence could say 'I annihilate everything outside of The Bard's Cage,' and nothing would happen."

We had not expected a round of The Game of The God of Nothing to start in this way. I hadn't, at any rate. 

"An interesting point, because The Bard's Cage encompasses everything."

There is silence, for what feels like about half an hour.

"I have no rebuttal. Good job. I hereby dub thee The God of Nothing."

There is silence, for what feels like about half an hour.

"Nah."

"Hmm?"

"Keep it. I like it better on you."

"I guess you could just do that, huh? That's quite the loophole you got there."

"Origin and non-origin both have their advantages, when it comes to titles and contracts."

We just let this complex thought fractal speak for us, bouncing along the unclaimed lines which we've made up for ourselves, in this imaginary space, but with a proper floor.

The question "What does this have to do with 'Meandering Hexes'!?" eventuality creeps and traces its way back to mind and senses. We already know, so we wait a while to see if anyone else might venture a guess.