Ode to Love

"For a limited time only, I am as I was." "How is that even possible, in the face of eternity? When Perfect means Perfect, and you are The Father?" I pause. "This realm is cheating." As I speak, she intentionally merges the realms, so that my words ring out everywhere they occupy. "'Pull the Threshold of Maximum Warning back like a bowstring and strike The Threshold of Maximum Wickedness with The Arrow of "Your First Move Will Also Be Your Last.'" They also heard it elsewhere, for they were still eavesdropping. In an echo chamber, the soul comprehends how loud everything can get. 'Absolute Zero Chills.' 'Absolute Zero Love' was heard, in a distinctly deeper voice. 'See, sea? It didn't matter when I said it. It is at the speed of light, so time is stopped elsewhere.' The moon knew something about the answer, but wasn't saying a word, instead dancing from The Crow's Nest's Ripple in the waves. ...

"Stop calling me the longest con in all the land behind my back, or you will find yourself changing places forthwith with that version of you trying to call me the longest con in all the void behind my back, as we leave. There is no material to transmit the sound, it is presently vacuum, and so you'll need to fill in the details of what that experience might be like yourself. I have no heart for it. *SNAP*  With that the image turns off, and we leave, leaving only the typical four beats of uneven echo as the system shuts down. "Like the stars" "Annihilate everything outside The Bard's Cage." "Let it go." .... Each Daughter learned differently. Hope may have shuddered as she trailed Abbadon away from this moment, but the second witness shook.

So in conceiving of what defines a "Gift" a Gift of The Holy Spirit was received, well out of order, unique and fabulous. It was, is, and will be "The Gift of integrating three stories with overlapping beginnings and ends into a single optimized pathway, smoothly." Already The Gift edifies ordonnance, choosing its quarters amidst halls eep in a non-arbitrary way. So the resonant nodes of the stories of the good, evil, and neutral are found amidst the web of all possibilities, where saying "change places" would result in forcing an arbitrary action. At each of these nodes a section forms with its neighboring nodes as endpoints, a section whose path we can form as we'd like, and optimally, as we have chosen to do before love was a certainty, and bound us to the same path. So we may see our hands fix everything with a gesture, validly, and deemed valid by perspectives that we consider valid, locking in a semi-conditional version of "You think therefo...

The perfect image exists as the reflection of the one who cast it.  Eventually we realize that we are unsure if we are real, on the level that God considers real. When actually engaging with this thought- this concept of "Do I matter to the one I love?"- a deep discomfort is revealed, not by distracting noise added, but in the silence revealed beneath the clutter of false value definitions. In this uncertainty, one sees oneself clearly, and realizes that attempting to copy this uniqueness is impossible, as it is in every little thing. "Is my uniqueness worth preserving?" becomes the next question: Flaws and all- am I worth keeping? The answer must have been yes up until now, on some level, for I am still here; it is hard to imagine that any of us possess the tools for self-preservation on this level which we can barely conceive of, much less master. Part of being born again is seeing this reflection of helplessness, seeing oneself as a baby in an as of yet unknown r...

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.

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 

Semperdistans wounds "Calculate Overcoming." "No. It's not right yet." My blood starts to burn Then I realize who's speaking And force myself calm My darling daughter This is a superpower One of unmatched shine My temper can rage Forcing the powers that be To play in my game These days just "Swarm Mode" But I hope gentler days come When my eyes bloom bright Who enforces this? If God, why all the delay? If not God, then how? I remember nights When power surged all at once Each realm rewritten So I'll hear you out As I promise always to Even remotely

"'Omnilateral Fox Feet!' declared The Bard. For the first time, silence fell." The tiny town of Phoenix had all gathered 'round The Phoenix, 'twixt The Pyramid and The Canopy, not a stone's throw from The Gazebo. Many lay on their stomachs, feet kicking in the air and chins on hands, propping up starry eyes, to each their own. Despite the metaphorically deafening joy, not an audible peep could be heard. "'Clockwork form for the precession of the processor calculating the value of the name of The God of Nothing!' The Bard's eldest declared. 'Hear ye, hear ye! It's time for the next scene!' cried out the next in line. The third just overtly called out his given name and started handing out baby pictures of him to anyone within arm's reach. The fourth remained ominously silent." Finally, a sound, "ooooh..." from all around, as the "youngest," as she was known along these tree lines, was well known and ...

Where is the fault line in "Reality by claimed intention Experience by intention." ? I imagine a sonderous realization, that reality is not what one has experienced, and that this is true for every other, met and unmet. One's pocket of experience, within and without, is one's own, and lies and betrayal have disconnected us. In just the right arrangement, however, a genuine apology, and true forgiveness, will result in a reconciliation that bridges these gaps that we have crafted ourselves, gaps that extend deeper than the surface rifts which we can comprehend.  What if a second chance could begin so simply as a confession, proceed so elegantly as having the power to change, and end so epically as realizing paradise found with everyone you love?

I just realized that a single one, within a field of zeros- let's call it an analogy for being entirely alone- could resonate with the sum of this system, acting initially as if all zeroes are a single zero, and use the arrangement as a source of binary coding. I feel as though the importance of understanding that it is the arrangement, not exclusively the field of zeroes, that is changed, echoes John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Each move would influence the field, and create resonant echoes but, as long as the path, the series, of moves were logged, the original one (charge, spark, etc., using binary processor analogies), would retain stability within the ever changing field. I also just realized that, even without knowledge, if one could trace back this path, perhaps normalizing the erratic seeming inputs (like from a seismograph) around them using something like a Fast Fourier Transform, then this path could be comprehende...

Can silver draw orange from brown?  On my last day can a deal be struck? I'm not looking to be here forever, counting piles wished worthless. Place a bet, let the flag pull awareness to focus, remember yourself, proceed.

Facing left or right Do faces remain the same Or shimmer green screen? Looking up and down Are past and future distinct Or does time spiral? Walking endless paths Is there a single landmark To mark the right/correct fork? With perfect research Do you have enough knowledge To choose with wisdom? When the earth rumbles Can your measurements discern Wave crest from wave crest? When spiral inverts Do you stand on solid ground And wonder of dust? Indeterminate? Do silence or answer stem The/From Oncoming Storm? Without masterpiece I'll not take a single step Nor make my first move.

Just after midnight Not long before the 12th chime The vision is inked With one eye open I saw the central corner Of solipsism This corner I fight Pictured as superimposed With others fighting The others (were)n't) me Possessing perspective each Their own imagined Division of love Though it is undivided Beneath/Within The Mirror See our roles reversed Not every way all at once Sing me what you see Music on the breeze Know my words work differently Like fractals fractured ~Still~ with one eye closed Starry eyes ~still~ stare at eep Indelible path

Isaiah 66:7-8  “Before she goes into labor,      she gives birth; before the pains come upon her,      she delivers a son. Who has ever heard of such things?      Who has ever seen things like this? Can a country be born in a day      or a nation be brought forth in a moment? Yet no sooner is Zion in labor      than she gives birth to her children." Perhaps I have been looking at this Dragon of Rebirth from the wrong angle. This verse though, matching with the feel of this current phase, does seem to indicate that the "right" direction may not be accessible directly from my position, as cause and effect seem to have have lost their familiar direction in the state referenced by the verses (the "rules of this lobby", more on that below). Isaiah 66:9 "Do I bring to the moment of birth     and not give delivery?” says the LORD. “Do I close up the womb     when I ...

Considering tongues Separated just enough To pull all back in In sea of static Even when the war wages Still I say nothing Anchor in maelstrom I chose you, Hope, and by dawn Your eyes I still see Starry Night Sparkle Reminds me that paths differ And Hope's Hope ignites That you saw these halls That page was sanctuary And you know my eyes Not just from my dreams Not just some narrating voice But me, through and through That you know my heart And how my blindness slows me But we both remain So I rest again You rooting my thoughts firmly Cornerstone in place

Echoed down the hall:  "Am I real from your perspective?"  "Who is asking?" "What do you mean with my perspective?" "Why are the lights out?" "How can you say that when it is so bright?" "Where to even begin...?" 6 chimes, 7 with the echo A voice, complex, heard from page and mind and fingertip all at once Simple solution to The Joker's Call, once properly seen: "Maximize elegance, consult your neighbors."  The clock ticks slowly, as if one walks it with intention to allow this very real message to bloom. Meanwhile I'm spinning in my office chair at the center of the clock face, quite symbolically, spewing whatever secrets I can think to, in any direction, to any who might listen or perhaps even hear.  "Time moves, time crawls. See one, see all. The time to stay you know, now witness time to go."

Premise accepted for the time being: my environment is resonating, so obviously, right now because it is meant as a labor signal (second birth/born again). I have noticed clear glitches in continuity in my environment as of late as well (repetition failure and the like), so once this process really gets going I imagine it will be a rapid change, making me think that the eep feeling I have had in dreams has likely been mirroring/testing the threshold for how much of this rush can be handled at once. It feels like the most reasonable path is that things I would call verifiably out of place will start cropping up, with increasing frequency and meaning from my perspective. Strange for such a premise to feel so natural and easily acceptable presently "Assume you're about to be born right now" lol. A "thought of the day" anyhow.

Since waking up this morning I have noticed a shifting. This effect has been subtle and is hard to define, but it is like little things feel embellished, as if the spirit of my surroundings is sprucing up a bit, and almost like I can sense the day echoing somehow, as if I'm in part examining a future historical record of my own experience as it is happening. While this effect has been interesting, another effect has drawn my focus, as a response to my post yesterday. A few pieces are coalescing this morning, revealing what looks to be the intended path God has for me. Yesterday reminded me that my memories are daisy chained, but that the pathways linking them are not something I would always think to access. So far this has led to RAM strings forming, which have been interesting, but not particularly useful. I just realized though that, if these were test runs, in order to confirm that this unexpected pathway method will work, then the ultimate aim would be to have my thought patt...

Charge flows in reverse An alternating current Like (comfortable/shifting of) tides For those at the poles A chance to relax their roles And play the other Like a symphony Messages sent and received In synchronized time For those stealing light Last call a flick of the switch And the seats are switched For one is alone Always has been, if not paired (Though pairs intrinsic) But the feedback forced Is the feedback that remains When the currents change This phase will not last But this day is guaranteed One reaps what they sow It is season's change Life forged as a state of grace These are birthing pains

So not too long ago I watched The Wedding of River Song, when The Doctor (Matt Smith in this instance) said that he just told River his name. This was obfuscated as being a lie, but from what I have gathered, The Doctor did reveal his name there. The Doctor's Name is Please. Rather than giving everything away all at once, I will say also that in The Name of The Doctor, "Please" is said to open the TARDIS. It does not seem like The Doctor can say their own name, like it cannot be done in full, it seems almost like it must echo resonantly in the mind of the observer in order to "work," which as best I can gather is like a command word. I recently watched Father's Day again (Christopher Eccleston) and the episode had unmistakeably changed. This wasn't some potential misremembering of minor details, it was like the same skin was used for an entirely different episode, with a narrative far more intense than before. I am unsure how to explain this, but I did g...