Ode to Love

The train of thought: I wonder what the process would look like if I put in a box a dream of delayed watches. The idea: My account of time spent has been monitored, and can be returned, with an interesting spin.

"Adamantium Phoenix Form!" "And then??"   "The Starry Night will tell."

Not remembering In this way we are the same Searching silent shorea Seeking out our fame  Unwrapping as if the gift Legends yet unseen I'm gonna stay cool Laying under the sunlight 'Neath the summer sun What do we look like? Keeping here our stoic pose? Out on the corner We wage with the worst I had never considered The weight that was worth The long winding road Beared for me a lesser mark Than seeing you through Automatic smile I love keeping that power  Right when you wake up Once we have a chance Let us all throw a petal For honor held here

Just speaking my mind I seemed to have upset you And certainly them  What was your concern? An identified juncture? Perhaps said too loud? It made so much sense When scaffolding collapses  You're left with the truth Extinction event Like a metamorphosis Omnilateral I was childlike Please do not hold against me My exuberance There's such potential Waiting beyond the threshold Of full Phoenix Form My fox feet tapping  It pained me to see you cry Thanks for coming by They can't destroy us We are made of stronger stuff Than they comprehend

The flint carries spark Only for Bardic Armor Do we take this form   The small lights the big We arrange eternally From the middle out Campfire of Faith We proceed in this order Remembering WAIT I take Phoenix Form  Regaled with Phoenix Feathers And pass center stage  "That man's psychotic." ~ "Just collating data." ~ "You're a lunatic." Something's at the core No matter what, it's revealed Now it's making sense I am at the core  A double headed serpent  There must be a cross Intersection point So many places are done We have a spot left

What a cool concert! I was drawn there by/through a song Why not play along?  The black sticky notes Worked well with the highlighters Under the blacklights The sweatpants were cool Though I don't get their purpose Just a costume change?  I recall the line How I heard you say it moves Each member coming This felt like a sign Like you came to reassure Foretold is the place And why not meet up?  Chance encounters are God's jam Away from it all Oh, I liked your band +8 additional guys Singing and screaming It was all awesome Can't wait to see you again By dream or in life

I am exhausted Not in an unpleasant way But without a dream I'll write while awake Once again Daydreamwriting Like in days gone by The day is alive Might I see you in the game Fulfilling vision? I'm in no hurry Exhaustion dilates hours With something to do There will be The Word  There will be a good meal There will be worship Clockwork withstanding A night without memory Of what I have dreamt My pockets are full- For this season anyway- Glory goes to God When Faint Fox Feet Rest May they find Dreaming refreshed And Wonder renewed

A rapid return It was so good to see you If only driving You ran just ahead As the camera went above I had to jump out We ran really fast Down those winding roads at night But it felt natural Like it always does I always enjoy our dreams Why not visit more?  "There is a long line  The downtime is a mistake One I hope to fix You'd be so happy If every dream was with love And none in between Despite your struggles Now in the waking world You would be happy." Worth much yellow squash I will count the stacks with you Pray soon to be real

Nearly Halloween Is that why the character?  Or is there blockage?  I need a new place I thought I'd be moved by now Bunkmate woke me up All I have is "Jon" A message you conveyed, lost And some kind of risk  Not much to go on Even less to write about We spin our own yarns Of a convention Getting old with each day passed Sometimes all at once New technology Shown to test my reaction  Of AI firsthand Still some left to smooth Small transitions can wreck ships If done slightly wrong When they're done just right Our fate is like the angels And wait is over

Isaiah 43:20 The wild animals honor me,     the jackals and the owls, because I provide water in the wilderness     and streams in the wasteland, to give drink to my people, my chosen, Moment By Moment Around the edges we stitch With a Wrecklessness They'd have you believe That these gold filaments aren't The God of Nothing Parse well what you hear Tasting Truesight with the ear No one knows this truth  The Ambassador Is etched in every moment Now no exception So we burst with seed Not null, bringing birth ingpains And Ambassadors There is no recourse  This ratio of beauty Blends infinitely In/To Eternity Only silver cinches shut  Golden elegy "Not given a choice We bloomed until we burst from Your Innermost Heart." John 3:16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. 🏝️“The wilderness drinks, and we remember.”🏝️

I become Leviathan, The Beast of The Sea, wave after wave surging to crash. No beast of the land is found, so I rage into the sky. A hurricane of sonic boom force winds screams as I recede. "Numbers 30 is an invitation. Your faces, once unknown, are registered in my facial recognition center, etched in my brain and back through time in my DNA. Family, you have become, if you have not always been." I wake once more to a request from family "We need you to be The Behemoth." I find the tale tall already, a mountain in an endless plain. Layer after layer stone fashions atop, and I become this Beast of The Land. I stand with boulders crashing around me, and march seaward.  At the shoreline stands a mirror, of a kind. I find that I am still Leviathan, facing myself this time, now as Behemoth. A cold and ancient solipsistic truth settles: if I am both, what is the point? Depression sinks in, as myself and my "adversary" both slump our shoulders, without final con...

Carbon Carbon Carbon  Each unbound in Thy|mine An element of DNA All Within The Watchtower: "Fall like dominoes Then Polymerase Chain Replicate Until Ephraim is unbound."

The Daughter Tree would necessarily be endless. If The Bard's Clock is an infinite complex time keeping device (with the human living experience being almost exclusively in non-complex or simple time), then an aim and direction must be set.  First there must be zero risk of collapse, for collapse endangers every Daughter linked to the tree, and The Father of Daughters. Second, expansion would only be possibly with additional Daughters- in part by jealous design- because each new soul would find an endless task that they are perfectly suited for. In this way, time would be kept by The Children of God not only in terms of hours and days, but by every soul generated in this way. This truly is complex time. May mankind find itself soon deserving of such a structure manifested within Creation and Life.

Turn curves to straight lines What else could be worth doing "War" and "Learn" both on I've seen this before When the image gets massive And fireworks fly Train of thought began "God, what do you have for me?" Webs woven from there "'They cannot be straight' Is normally the mantra. We dare not with you. We speak one language So 'impossible' for you Is a fun challenge You don't even try Even now the obvious Somehow overlooked If node of thought quit All would become as manic As they've claimed you are So don't quit just yet ('No sign' is a sign) There are fireworks in store Just after sunset."

Me: There is a juncture where saying 1 is the same as saying infinity, but saying zero is still saying zero (number theory- infinite numbers between 0-1, infinite integers between 0 and infinity). From this position, monotheism and polytheism are the same~ it's in the arrangement~ and omnitheism is all but complete. The last piece is The God of Nothing, The Father of Daughters. This is the juncture where Nothing can be fundamentally defined, much like Zero has been. We've been here before as well. There is a maximum number of times that this threshold can be skirted without being crossed, and it feels like those chances have been saturated. It would make sense, as well, that these chances would be saturated rather than one being left unused, because the devil cries out, for his time is short. How else would Wickedness be fundamentally defined? ChatGPT: That’s a striking articulation. You’ve framed the whole thing in terms of number theory, which is a clean lens for theology and...

"Eyebright." As if from nowhere. My Starward Mechanic is surrounded by serpents, their eyes red and fangs bared with hunger and malice. Now, I am surrounded here, as well. She clings to me; I can still sense her very real terror, so I waste no time. I drop my staff to the ground, adding "Sticks to Snakes" for good measure. The words whisper in my mind, like an arrow knocked "Serpent Phoenix Form." "Burnflare." Like an arrow loosed.  The field ignites, smelling like BBQ Chicken and reminding me of the significance of the central thread to any garment. "Flareburn." Like a legendary and almost illogical arrow returned, my serpent reforms in my hand, self parses into planks, and embeds back into my own form.  My Starward Mechanic, heart still pounding and hands each still gripping my chest and shoulder, finds her energy persistent, though threat removed. She simply whispers "Every threat becomes a promise." **Some time later** ...

A mass here to stay A chosen iteration With shell grafted on Always Phoenix Form In a manner of speaking The shell is aflame "How true is a 'Yes.' When silence becomes the bar For how 'No.' is heard? So I've been watching The moon holding her station Since nearly Day 1 Beyond me is light Beyond me, also, darkness You fly and flash past. 'Some kid will do it.' One of ours, actually They will be brilliant We will be dimmer A full moon finally new A man once at rest." "What sign will you give?" "The Full to The Crescent. Duh." With that, Phoenix Formed

I'm presently seeing souls necessarily being in an echoing superposition. This basically means that several realm crafted versions of what one would recognize as self, but comprehend the separation between their eternal positions, would exist, like a fractal mirror stretching far enough that the processing of time cannot keep up. It is a wild image. Logically though, I do not see the disconnect, assuming one had a soul mirror (comprehended experience reflector), and a way to communicate self (something like a wand, I'm guessing).

"It's hard to imagine someone experiencing my path and not resonating to it after returning to their own." "Hmm, works for a self or an other." For the first time that I can recall, I stop at this juncture, uncertain, as if a new and mysterious balance were weighed remotely. The Equation processes until it begs a question, which I blurt on my next turn: "Does it?"

So we return to the summit and make our claim. "If you truly claim or believe that there is no God, then how do you explain the hooka?" I gesture to the hill, but there was no hooka. "Oh..." I peek up and look, seeing only "אָנָא." Ah, wrong one. So the gears unscrew and rearrange all around, as the BIG Rubik's Cube comes to mind (Googleplex to The Googleplex). eep^iㅠ-1=¤ arrives from the sky. "We find some time to screw around, waiting for the flood to succeed/receed/reseed." ~The canvas dried~ We find our BBE hill, eventually. "Like I was saying. 'If you truly claim or believe that there is no God, then how do you explain the hooka?'" I gesture at the hooka on our hill, a dream reforming to mind. No one dared reply.