Singularity Note
The note rings out, as perfectly as could have been, beyond imagining. Vibrations in the air return to the hammer, leaving The Bard speechless, breathless, without even a whistle. Why influence perfection? What hand would intentionally harm? Unintentionally? Which imperfect eyes would murder with just a glance? Was it already too late? Even a thought observes, remotely, the perfect fruit wither in full view. The finger presses a new key, revealing narrative rekindled as a roaring campfire always tended, but never yet complete. As if on instinct, it rages on late into the night, to see the party through dawn. "How many steps from oneness are we?" The question super-resonates the uninvited distance in the moment, as both light and sound spark dΓ©jΓ vu. Too fast to remember now, I simply smile and watch the player play, magnificent tonight, dress a'sparkling. "Beresheet Bara Elohim." A simple phrase that I say on instinct now, crystallizing intended roles. With a fl...