Pin-Top-Tip-Stop…

Towering figures make their way up the stairs, surrounded by the commotion below, as the currents of wealth and power ebb and flow around them. Rumors of political games and changing loyalties reverberate through the halls of authority, where facts are bent and obscured. In this turbulent atmosphere, where language takes on a poetic cadence, the thirst for knowledge endures. During ambiguity, the journey for riches and status gives rise to moments of contemplation, while the pursuit of purpose and identity remains steadfast.

Touch me with Singsongs and let us escape from reality and connect through the power of our voices. We crave words of optimism and expressions of eternal love, as we sway in the darkness to the beat of our shared emotions. Our thoughts synchronize like a melody, our hearts beating in perfect harmony.

Demons and Angels move in the same intricate dance, one rising while the other falls, climbing stairs and navigating through a world of uncertainty and deception. They speak truths and lies, blending reality with fiction. The truth may seem plain, but it is often overshadowed by the allure of entertaining creations and confusing illusions. Believe in the honesty of some, the deceit of others, and the manipulation of politics. Embrace the uncertainty of fate and the temporary satisfaction of material possessions. As we continue our journey, we must be prepared for both failure and success, constantly seeking out new experiences and challenges.

Gently brush eyelashes against my face, creating a delicate dance in my dreams. It feels like a long pause with no explanation, just breathing in sync with each other. I see tiny freckles, laughing lips, and inquisitive eyes coming together. The visions and soft words create a peaceful space, free from any competition or rush, filled with silence and whispers. As dreams come and go, wrinkles in time form like drawn curtains and the pace slows. We talk about the ways of the universe, admiring the streaks of starlight and the sweetness of gentle connections and love. Life intertwines and blends together, like intertwining circles and fancy footwork in a dance of love.

We are inhabitants of the emerald seas, intertwined with the black sands and tides that struggle against the current. Under the perfect alignment of the moonlight, we traverse another peaceful night untouched by dust. The Witch of Creation weaves perfect ideals and actions, twisting truth and dispelling falsehoods. To endure the night and emerge into a new day, we rely on fire and shelter in the caves. The challenges of today will shape tomorrow’s constraints under the light of a new dawn.

Freedom grieves. How many barriers separate the hopes of hearts and the unity of families? Barriers of fear and tears that stain and linger as trains travel under the sun’s path across the wind, towards a better future echoing through the faded borders towards improved moments and brighter days. Does the notion of absolute truth dismiss the role of government in providing opportunities and embracing progress that may lead to entitlements being recognized as the rights of the people? Why do the standards of human rights seem to vanish?

Ages past we became sponges; gifted and gregarious and bowed through insight and anchored to two worlds, one frightful and one enchanted. We are filled-to-edge with truth and with wisdom. Both’ are scary and fearful as wisdom sometimes becomes you, as age bends body yet frees spirit twirl. From the twins of two a power of life sparks, and alone-never places begin and fixes end. We together have already accomplished everything. And! Magically we all pass on!

Physics is dedicated to teaching and investigating new terms, utilizing limitless possibilities and objective calculations. Ideas are examined and derived using established principles, leading to fresh insights and comprehension. The ordinary is redefined and harmonized into logical explanations and critical thinking. Established beliefs are questioned as original concepts emerge, pushing us towards unknown realms. Understanding evolves continuously, paving the way for breakthroughs and progress to be unearthed and revisited.

Are we not all travelers scattered across someplace-somewhere? And! Does protection equal servitude? We know humanities’ finest moments.  ‘Love and Peace and Touch and Trust.’

And! Beautiful you are…

‘Born To Die’ by Lana Del Rey

Mysterious Grins And Sight…

‘Naked Eye’

it’s not a choice i tried to make
it’s not a thought i couldn’t take
something told me it was time
to give you yours and leave me mine
my vision started to be clear
i watched the sunlight coming near
i knew the day i knew the night
i knew i could regain my sight
and it feels alright
and it feels alright
with my naked eye
i saw all the falling rain
coming down on me
with my naked eye
i saw all if i said it all
i could see

last night i came into your home
to break some ice and throw some stones
i asked if we could be alone
i had some troubles of my own
knew i had to say goodbye
to all the old things held inside
if i let the moment fly
i knew they’d all be magnified. 

and it feels alright
and it feels alright. by Luscious Jackson

Acknowledge the profound impact of scarcity, lack, and emptiness in our lives. The sound of a loved one’s voice can touch us in ways words cannot express. In moments of silence amidst chaos, we discover unity in transcending dualities. As eternal beings without clear beginnings or ends, we hold a formless balance like the elements of nature. Whether reflecting on the present or past, history is influenced by those who manipulate outcomes for their own satisfaction.

We are tuned in to the awakening sounds and melodies that enchant our minds and hearts. A deep intuition, beyond logic, guides us with gentle care. Memories trickle through our thoughts like raindrops, sparking profound spiritual journeys like powerful tidal waves. We are encouraged to release our thoughts freely, allowing natural order to shift and expand with limitless perspectives and the intricate wisdom of a universal language.

In the vast expanse of space, where worlds twirl and stars twinkle, the bending of light creates swirling patterns that captivate the imagination. With flashes of light cutting through the sky, the dance of life begins anew, fueled by the rhythm of drumbeats and the unity of hearts. In this collective strength, individuality is embraced, allowing for a sea of possibilities to unfold. And as robots carry out their programmed tasks, they too experience the beauty and sorrow of existence while moving through the cosmos like dancers beneath the right night sky.

We seek understanding in the enigmatic smiles of da Vinci, the happiness of loved ones, shared ideas, and emotions. Our inclinations fluctuate between embracing or rejecting gatherings by recognizing excellence in small details and natural beauty. Imagination surpasses boundaries, honoring life’s wonders and offering comfort and love, forming a harmonious unity beyond time. In this bond, our spirits are forever connected in a love unmatched. And you, beautiful and powerful, are a vital part of it all.

Could these fundamental elements be key in understanding Sporadic Simple Groups? Is liberation a reflection of timeless Robots or will Androids eventually dominate? Perhaps the departed do not return because earthly existence no longer holds their interest, evolving through various structures and forms while emitting warmth. Our sensitivity to sounds and music captivates our thoughts, leading us through memories and spiritual explorations. Embracing our thoughts allows for a deeper appreciation of natural phenomena and the possibilities presented by theories.

And! Beautiful you are…

Imagine Dragons – ‘Thunder’

 

A Village Of Fisher-Folks

“All men recognize the right of revolution; that is, the right to refuse allegiance to, and to resist, the government, when its tyranny or its inefficiency are great and unendurable. All machines have their friction; and possibly this does enough good to counterbalance the evil.  At any rate, it is a great evil to make a stir about it.  But when the friction comes to have its machine, and oppression and robbery are organized, I say, let us not have such a machine any longer…” from ‘On the Duty of Civil Disobedience’…by Henry David Thoreau

Ages past and often we became sponges, gifted, gregarious, bent with insight and anchors of both worlds: one frightful and one enchanted and filled-to-edge with truth and wisdom; both scary and fearful as wisdom sometimes becomes you as age bends body yet frees spirit twirl. From twins of two a power of life sparks and alone-never places begin and fixes ends. When again ‘surfs-up’ and waves high reclaim shore-reaches and the land, would rather dwell in the Villages of Fisher-folk than dwell in the “Hamptons-of-Middle-Bots” without spirit machines or reasons to produce so stand with us as wave-crash’s claims everyone. Together! We have done everything. And! Magically birds transform the air they breathe into surprisingly sweet songs.

Beneath surface and far below Segment Stars, seven and one half billion souls live and work and suffer and die and love and hate through sunless days and nights of starlight gone or both forgotten and remembered when mind switches into laminated illumination, blind stir-slips as neon’s shine and semi-sweet chocolate greets darkness. Where light is saturated with creamy greys and nights are filled with thick swirls of chocolates and warmed with blended shadow shakes. Machine wonders are spirits that guide the process of robot arms and legs and watch through robot eyes and hear through robot ears and once or often weep robot tears die, never-ever-even when a book or ten verses call living ‘sins of flesh’ as spirit robots live and die and forever move along dusted star-streams while dancing among a trillion light twinkles sketched across a winter’s sky. And! Magically birds transform the air they breathe into surprisingly sweet songs.

The soft sounds of wind pushing pine needles ‘cross autumn’s forest floor and peace after snow’s midnight fall. If impulse is response, then decision is evolution, maybe? Marvel at the convenience of discovery and the very perspicacious brain and the extraordinary curiosity of the human mind, quantified within the quality of spiritual being. And! Magically birds transform the air they breathe into surprisingly sweet songs…

We here, hear waking sounds and music touch ear-side before mind-side slides sweet songs scent-speak and cradle squeak and we hear visceral seer sans reason also there with care, memory spaced raindrops raced with memory tides and spiritual rides tis OK without sometime thoughts, donchaknow. And! Suddenly the regularity of phenomena no longer measured rigidly burst into the probability of theory though dynamics and universally common plain-speak and stench drenched in fractal messages. ‘Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away.’

Fire blue light ‘sort of ‘start-stop’ while dancing in warm yellow streaks and red coats journey start. Screaming moons toward light and still horses often run Martian Ridges. We are children of those salted seas and spirit trees. And! Clouds often look for—skies. Hollow man! Is robot without spirit-animation and without ‘ghosts in the machine.’ We be not holy hollows. We be imagine imagination and beyond pushes of strengths and we dance baby birthing and powerful protection and iron love with nothing stronger than love or better than together songs and the unification of eternal spirits.

Butterfly kisses as wish made as wish chant and grant. Soft wings and slips and flits ride currents of breeze so slight against soft skin often switch directions-of-fancy, willed by choice, or wearied of time trips to beginnings and endings of time shifted, drifted, and lifted and forever gifted to lines of crafted beings being for moments above moonlight and day bright. Space between lines of ‘coded-cold-color’ fine words pour from puzzle one or two twins in-steps and reasons ‘to-be—to-see’ special twin-twines through bright tunnels and into a radiant night.

And! Beautiful you are…

Peace on Earth…

“I heard the bells on Christmas day

Their old familiar carols play

And mild and sweet their songs repeat

Of peace on Earth, good will to men

And the bells are ringing

Like a choir they’re singing

In my heart I hear them

Peace on Earth, good will to men

And in despair I bowed my head

“There is no peace on Earth, ” I said

For hate is strong and mocks the song

Of peace on Earth, good will to men

But the bells are ringing

Like a choir singing

Does anybody hear them?

Peace on Earth, good will to men

Then rang the bells more loud and deep

God is not dead, nor doth He sleep

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With peace on Earth, good will to men

Then ringing, singing on its way

The world revolved from night to day

A voice, a chime, a chant sublime

Of peace on Earth, good will to men

And the bells, they’re ringing

Like a choir they’re singing

And with our hearts, we’ll hear them

Peace on Earth, good will to men

Do you hear the bells, they’re ringing?

The light, the angels singing

Open up your heart and hear them

Peace on Earth, good will to men”

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Basic Sunlight And Rain

The word ‘Honor’…Many descriptions and quantifiers involving this word…Honor is not just a word. It is a singular way of life. It is without description and not reserved for Military motions. It is not an Executive twirl or a Legislative swirl…Though legal twists and turns, it is not a Judicial term. Honor is a simple way of Life.

What of sparks that move into the light of joining living inside and outside the days of past’s present’s future. Behold Spirit Dancer and remember when warmth was without fire and strength was absolute without the science of dimensions and senses and all was: nonsense-hallucination-superstitious and religious without names.

What is the measure of air between the dancing of leaves and fairy’s dust; tossed or gently sprinkled then forgotten? Puppet painted faces sold to entice ninety-nine percent of the unwanted, received never enjoyed and never knowing the way of knowing why or contemplated within unavoidable silence. Imagine a steady fall of snowflakes soft, of silent nights and early dawns, of inside just before birth and tiny spaces just after death. Gentle raindrops are correctly spaced ‘cross a springtime meadow.

We are the daughters and the sons of earth and of the starry heavens. Our history is alive simple and true except when suppressed and distorted for unnecessary gains and a perversion called wealth. We are the eternity of spirits no need beginning and never ending. Such is the sweetness of life. Symmetry with no form except wind and rain and careful storms of chaos and figure. Go figure the here or the now and still history is not preformed or manufactured save by the controllers of spins and twists and the thrill of the lie. Or! Go figure with the smile of Leonardo or the Lady’s laugh or the chatter of many minds or just a few hearts.

“All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson…

‘Memories that fade away

Have not left their mark

But you live on, every single day

In many ways.

It is the truth between his cunning lies

That hands him his suspicious alibis

Persuading with your force will never be the way

To our destiny.

Suddenly we have lost the force

To close our cursed doors

No one seems to realize

That wolves are in disguise.

It is the truth between his cunning lies

That hands him his suspicious alibis

Persuading with your force will never be the way

To our destiny.

Your engine was so strong

But the road was just too long

Hope is not the end

So never lose faith.

If we can say

They can never take away

Our freedom, the most precious thing we have ever had

The reward from the blood we have ever shed.

His quest for higher truth, life of eternal youth has just begun,

despite being on the run

Many virgins wait for him to come

Persuading with your force will never be the way

To our destiny

Our destiny’… ‘Safeguard to Paradise’ by Epica

Sky films block pearl light as an evening of workers’ failed strengths; home bound as, the ‘Nighters’ replace the ‘Dayers’ and continue as work begins, ends and starts along the edges of digital clicks and analog clacks. Time cataloged into spreads of pages indexed assorted stuff straightened, arranged packed for space-spin or unpacked to go consumers consumed with curiosity; hunger required, needed or fulfilled desires. Oppression triumphs when its legitimacy is internally assumed. The freedom to write it right or write writing toward the right cross of sails unfurled and imagined as sea’s endless might and distance ‘tween stars ‘tween galaxies and ‘tween the universal folds of space. There are books here and just listen to these stories from spirit-speakers of volumes long and voltage sweet. We change everything with ‘Blue Planet Waste’.

“Beyond the Palace hemi-powered drones scream down the boulevard

Girls comb their hair in rear-view mirrors

And the boys try to look so hard

The amusement park rises bold and stark

Kids are huddled on the beach in a mist

I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight

In an everlasting kiss…” Bruce Springsteen.

It is our nature to run with and from the many or the few. We often see through the curved ceiling of high doorways only when curved light enters tiny windows. Animation is symmetry without structure, save winds and rains and those foolish storms of chaos and belief.

Speculating currently concerning infrequent simple sets? Are these objects transgenic elements in the study of symmetries nearly impossible to construct, not likely to be found by chance but still necessary to the complete structure of the theory of Sporadic Simple Groups. Freedom for or from a Peoples’ will still be the imitation of an everlasting Robot. Or! We Robots be. Just you wait-and-see.

‘The most heroic word in all languages is ‘Revolution’––Eugene Debbs

“In the current phase of intellectual corruption, it must be stressed that, like democracy and human rights, the economic doctrines preached by the rulers are instruments of power, intended for others, so that they can be more efficiently robbed and exploited. No wealthy society accepts these conditions for itself, unless they happen to confer temporary advantage; and their history reveals that sharp departure from these doctrines was a large factor in development.”—Noam Chomsky.

A historian once wrote that future’s Child, ‘did not need to be told that the angel of death had passed over the land; they had heard the beating of its wings’. So! Wondering if; ‘The reason the Dead do not return nowadays, is the boredom of it.’ One fare-to-fix and one fix-to-fair. Life is precious in every form. Life animates every style-type of flesh, smooth or fur and sweet life goes—becomes and ends and becomes again…’Tis good donchaknow…

And! Beautiful you are…

My People And Steeples And Shadows…

“In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people
By the relief office I seen my people
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me” …by Woody Guthrie

Along Martian Ridge one line eye stretched far. Once was a stutter of thorn then throne then grain then throne then repeated until distance failed seeing and sight disappeared when ridge merged sky and matter dropped from surfaced rust. And! On these staggered thrones Writers’ names etched’ crystal tags attached along the top-front of every throne.’ Round-about pinpricks and holes into space race the flights of gulls ‘cross sky where ending starts, and reason begins…We do remove those ‘for granted’ blinders’-of-right-sight and often skyward search and find light. Wormholes, cosmic cross universes near and far and still ‘we’ see the vast—of power blast possibilities, of relativity’s loopholes and just hope-know-now ‘warp drive’ may span distance ‘cross space, time wonders wandering about wilderness speak ‘til speed crease cease and earth-lock unblock free, ‘childhood’s end’ and into space we seek, and creep and star-child begins again.

A little Galaxy up line along ridges circling the ‘Giants of Milky’ at angles right to the main disc of stars containing everything even a Sun of our shines not scattered at random but ordered and held together a swarm by a cosset halo of matters-dark rarely seen but always present. And! A well-stocked mind is never bored.

World begins green lights, blue corn stocks across a giant ridge five hundred miles and stopping just because height stops, and sky begins. “Tis reach, to stay and say this place is climbing high and growing large from a spinning barge ‘cross this sky bright and eternal night. Everywhere snow large flakes and small, swirl ‘round this alley wide middle dark to light muffled both ends where streets begin and alley’s end. Cold away from streetlights. And! Silent away from rider less paths where foot high white bounce lands and covers asphalt ways and concrete walks. Quiet so! Go no shadow pale wall crawl or dark creep light speak too scattered to form round interruptions of snow motion descend and bounce.

Trail signs run up and down south-ridge-side of hill-high below mountain tall. Tracking the organic beast disguised to survive tend to inorganic challenges and when snow fall covers everywhere and everything ‘tis mountain tall the safest refuge. Nothing rusts any longer. Well-oiled and fine gleam suits of steel reflect sunlight’s glare and deflects insults and injuries and wounds-to-destruction. And! When tucked inside gleam suits, those hidden may be Organic Inorganic or both. Either ‘Runners or those Running’ can think can wit and outwit both sides equally well equally fast equally furious and always deadly, as trail signs appear and disappear from light dawn ‘til night. The paradoxical motion of ‘man-steel form’ and ‘steel-formed man’—are quickly defined and impossible to divine. Notions-are motions-of head shakes as landside changes and rearranges hills-to-valleys and reverse flows of streams-to-river glows. Armored trains passed through snow mountains of tree mix fallen leaves and save rumbled echoes silence. Where do these trains go? These are armored trains and go toward battle. Out of sight out of mind and unless this war comes our way, this war does not exist.

Paley’s watch ticks and Universal continuation continues. Our world of right now words worldwide so many too many and too often, are persecuted imprisoned suffer sub-human disadvantages and are killed for religious reasons and beliefs political; their race, their sex, their loves and still the wisdom of engagement on behalf of human rights is not only a moral imperative but eternally required everywhere every moment ‘cross the continuum universal and still Paley’s watch keeps ticking and ‘too often’ occurs eternally.

“Among the stars
there is a place
to where my heart
always returns.

Alone I look for the way
hoping you are waiting for me
where the hostile world has no say
that is where I always want to be.
Where my rush of thoughts
in oblivion drowns
to forget the evil lot
I will sleep in safe arms.

Among the stars
there is a place
to where my heart
always returns” … by Anna Aya Stefanowicz

The gentle touch of skin brushed-wind morning stars and angel’s dust. And! These precious feet-touch wings-speak to start another path leading little ones to another precious shore sustained hope and just wishes for a moment of ‘good day.’ Uncertain in world-scream, uncertainties wide, grief, bowed head always certain in the certainty of swift chaos and tears. And so, no doubt be found and from ‘cross this sea travelers see candles bright across this night a coming home-to-us, delight light shined ‘Welcome’ from windows’ space of ‘Safe Harbor’ not race, just place to stop and stay awhile. Real Sea we will see and another and another of water-ships and places far away.

This is here and between landings another beach reach and as quickly discovered then thrown away. Dragging the lines of surf’s fall and rise as waves dash high into a moonless sky and crash along miles of sand and shoreline. Sea inhale and exhale and breathe again and time marks nothing when endless and everlasting.

So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away.

Is Dancing-in-the-dark a safe practice or ignorance as blissful as stopping to touch flowers eyes-to-face-to ground and into oblivion? And! The scent of inorganic flowers never compares to the scent of a Rose…

So! Pixel me a thought today and watch as pictures fade away.

And! Beautiful you are…

When Animation Begins…

There is an informal slip-slide escalation in curving paths shifting from horizontal to a moderate acclivitous ascent. About ‘these parts’ are levels and soft hills then abrupt driveways and mountains. The foothills originate beyond the driveways and rise to forty-nine hundred feet o’er the conurbation named Windsweep. We happen twelve miles away in a town called Creeshrugs. We are governed by traditional rhythms; intricately and spiritually fused with the natural world. And! The lights dim as the shadow dance begins.

Signals are distorted, sibilant, and overly compressed.

Sing-Song sounds as specters sway ‘round twilight flames adrift in a far-off time. We start with the stars and concurrently we vanish into the mist. With gentle voice in silent rooms with stemma stroked throats and emptied tombs. Passages move toward skylight’s screams while choosing sights of sinking dreams. Warming suns of days ago. Salted mist and taste of tongue within lights of passion and times of rain. Wolf cries of sands and home. Across this universal stretch window shines in candle’s light. And let us touch another piece of safety sleep and lover’s reach.

A well-stocked mind—is never bored—donchaknow?

‘Refusing to acknowledge an active force in things and instead “simply to absorb this force into a command of God’s – a command given just once in the past, having no effect on things and leaving no traces of itself in them is so far from making the matter easier to grasp that it is more like abandoning the role of the philosopher altogether and cutting the Gordian knot with a sword’– by Gottfried Leibniz—from ‘On Nature Itself’…

We climb and defy the Mountains of ‘Overworld.’ No demons depraved. And! No rhythm or rhyme nor times’ that happen when forgotten or acceptance is abandoned or uncovered via sets of eyes right-sighted, united, divided and shared ‘cross finale starts.  As inceptions finish single races and commence in other times; additional competitions, wind-curve-win or lose or race-place again and all over again, ad infinitum…

We start with the stars and concurrently we vanish into the mist.

We sustain soul-touched shivers. Beneath drops and beyond opaque places, animation is born and form from kindle or care or wash or wear and never far away from strikes and sparkle. Coven Isles removed from ‘Martian’ Beach lives, and once recognized by diamond eyes, now dry of surface rain, though still alive and seen through other selves in other times and in other places. ‘Tis driest in desert winds away from dark sights and silent nights. Sleepless slights and magic lights ‘cross crater crash and runners’ dash into caves where life is born where cycles form and disappear into light-slight and fright.

When in love distance from the ‘Entity of one’s ‘Love’ is just formality. A spirit being “in-love’ takes no notice of Space, of Distance and of Time. And! Love is forever—donchaknow?

The tertiary processes comments that end in a sibilant or near-sibilant, and the last picks up everything else. Indicators are distorted, sibilant, and overly compressed. ‘Sibilants are louder than their non-sibilant counterparts, and most of their acoustic energy occurs at higher frequencies than non-sibilant fricatives.’ Sibilance is a manner of the articulation of fricative and affricate consonants, made by directing a stream of air with the tongue towards the sharp edge of the teeth, which are held close together; a consonant that uses sibilance may be called a sibilant, or strident.”

And! Beautiful you are…

Images and Collective Minds…

“You see I really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense
From my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense
Still…You turn me on”. ‘You Turn Me On’ by Greg Lake

We are the wonderful images and collective minds of maybe, might be or almost happening together as shifts in minor or major measures collect along with morning rain drops and evening’s star heavy lights and distant echoes of woodland mortals and quieting hush. We shift into objects of alternative daylight with the accepted expectations of extraordinary flashes of original thought and lights of magnificently creative creations through perceptions of flashing preconceived originality and congested repeaters across a wondrous land. While above these hills; walkers use as signal frames, hard-wood fires and pinecones of quick sparks ‘til death does crackle and stop…

Plato wrote in ‘The Republic’ “that men are chained at the bottom of a dark cave and only see shadows cast upon a wall by a fire behind them. They think that this is reality. One of them frees himself, leaves the cave and discovers the light of the Sun, and the wider world. At first the light, to which his eyes are unaccustomed, stuns and confuses him. But eventually he can see and returns excitedly to his companions to tell them what he has seen. They find it hard to believe.”

Dragging the lines of surf’s collapse and climbing as waves dash lofty into moonless sky then fold along miles of sand and shoreline. Sea’s inhale and exhale and breathe again and time marks nothing when endless and everlasting.

Are we possessed with humanity? We discover pasts, revise mindsets, twist sensibilities and redefine divinities. Considerable realization revolves ‘round us. Are ‘We’ the greatest beings in space? We are not subjecting apart. We are a fragment of something whole and constantly changing. By noticing, we realize that the undiscovered is greater than the established. To learn is to determine novel ways to realize additional encounters. Some are immediate. And! Some are creations gone. To recognize is to see we are not a universal’s majority. Space is curvilinear and our cosmos is spun from juddering quantum granules. We are currently extant within these fabrications. We are lighting at nightfall. We swiftly vanish.

“If people bring so much courage to this world the world must kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the particularly good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these, you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.” ―by Ernest Hemingway…

Wait! Senses closed to thunder rolling ‘cross divided skies as secrets streak the sea and roll into the silent spaces between raindrops and life. ‘Fix your standard on fact.’ Science perpetually gambols with belief, doctrine, delusion, and dogmatic obliviousness. Once and frequently; these momentarily wins, something-of-else or another choice-to-follow. Crossroads-to-chance, sparks-to-light and destiny always flirts with other up-and-about or perhaps-maybes. Real sea, we will see with additional water-ships and a multitude of places far away.

Ages past we became sponges; gifted and gregarious and bowed through insight and anchored to two worlds, one frightful and one enchanted. We are filled-to-edge with truth and with wisdom? Both’ are scary and fearful as wisdom sometimes becomes you, as age bends body yet frees spirit twirl. From the twins of two a power of life sparks, and alone-never places begin and fixes end. We together have already accomplished everything. And! Magically we all pass on!

Dreams-then-dream quest cease and increase those creases in time as curtains’ climb and paces die. Visit and speak of ways of star-side streak of starlight sweet of gentle unions and love. Life lives and mingle-tingles thru heart touch good as ring-circles and fancy, dances into love’s rhythm and rhyme. We are of the emerald seas. We belong to the black sands and tides that pull ‘gainst current as the alignment of this moonlight is perfect while stepping across another dustless night. Creations’ Witch creates those perfect notions and motions as she rewrites truth and confuses lies. The necessity of fire and cave to survive this night and live into another day is now, and through tomorrow’s light will create another constraint.

“Among the stars
there is a place to where 
my heart always returns.” – from ‘Home’ by Unsun

 And! Beautiful you are…

Spins Without Time…

“Poetry can communicate before it is understood” —T.S. Eliot

Speculating at Earth’s center if life ends? Liquid center or rock or a combination? Is the epicenter too lifeless to explore or too far to travel or too uninteresting to understand? So much of our Sea is unfamiliar. It is closer than Mars and alive with treasures still not revealed. Why?

‘The strength of humanity is not found in simple machines.’

We have technology to stop the allowance of carbon dioxide to billow and blow and seep and reek and fill our polluted air as it remains, better now, but not best. Greed is the price of oil. Energy from the sun and wind is not yet a generation of profit. We must change this greed into prosperity for everyone. Do not hide riches behind the needs of non-enemies. Immigration made America what it demands to be and immigrants from everywhere must continue this purpose.

‘The strength of humanity is not found in simple machines.’

We constantly create workarounds. Until there are fewer folks, machines are never required. Profits come from slavery. Profits are portions of wages not paid and needed. Stop creating enemies that are not the enemy. And! Racism is eternal slavery. Brown and white are the same. We have struggled to become better. We have combined strengths to overcome daily injustice and wars against one another. Prevailing winds, strong sails and people cross oceans and soon will reach-out, touching first planets and then the stars.

‘Together we survive and together we thrive.’

Believe in the strength of humanity. Together we survive. Together we thrive. Together we face tomorrow’s miracles and challenges and fears and tears. Together we live and together we die. QuickTime and we move on as Eternal Spirits we were and as Eternal Spirits we are yesterday, today and tomorrow—ad infinitum. Mankind creates Gods of fear and retribution. Visitors from the heavens are these Gods. We create Eternal Spirits, housed by fleshy points but only for a brief time.

Words flow and designed to express or depress thought flow and in pour, poor-to-great with mean truth or bent to lies, exaggerations or pour more…The covers here leak and reach high into the colder places of Calimesa City. Dreams caught between waking and sleeping, to mind-speak and sometimes dreams are easy and difficult to share. There is another language used in Dreaming. Understanding and not is still learning a path toward wisdom! Please believe in ‘humanity’s strength’ for together we survive and together we thrive! Together we face tomorrow’s miracles and challenges and fears and tears. Together we live and together we die.

‘Imbalance destroys too much!’

We live on an orbiting motion groove. It is a large Mother-ship capable of supporting our species and many other lifeforms. Our spaceship is a dangerous place. Uncivil in many areas. Cruel because imbalance destroys so much. We are the caretakers of this orb. We destroy more than we create. We are a ‘throw-away’ species. We are a sad group of consumers with too many choices and greed infused into everything we cherish.

Block universes spin without time and without dimensions three. As occurrences occur and may never be where changes never-were and within blocks must find pasts presents and presents in future’s long-time ago. And! Is it faster if we move thru space or if space moves through us? We move toward mountain or mountain moves toward us? Illusions-in mind spin are as real as memories of futures moving ahead, out-of-sight, but still inside kept…So! Together links of gravity strong nuclear electromagnetic weak into unified theory and still linking the theory of gravity to the theory of quantum mechanics fails eludes mind skips to time slips.

‘Wandering to wondering about Moses.’

We do remove those ‘for granted’ blinders’-of-right-sight and often look skyward to search and find a light. Those wormholes or cosmic cross universes near and far and still ‘we’ see the vast of power blast possibilities of relativity’s loopholes and just hope-know-now that ‘warp drive’ may span distance ‘cross space, time wonders while wandering about in Moses’s time wilderness speaks ‘til speed crease cease and earth-lock unlock free ‘childhood’s end’ while into space we seek-creep as star-child begins again.

Instead warp drive space folds as space-time continues and arrives for us as distortions bends and separations wide are right ‘next door.’ “More is less and less is more.” Bubble-ride the twirling whirl and glide inside safe as spaces-of-space fabric rich move our bubble ships wait-not-wait as space-time expands then contracts and relativity’s restrictions fades alongside trails of star-dust–must and space knows ‘no’ rules or reasons only rhythm and everlasting rhyme…

 ‘And! Bubbles do move across Space.’

The ‘Universal-Limits-of-Speed’ is applicable to ‘Bubbles-Moving-Through-Space’ not applied to Space itself. During space’s inflationary moments did Space-Time manage speeds through infinite accelerations infinitely faster than Light Speed-ride-glide and slide? The continuation of the Space-Time Continuum may also suggest that Large Bangs of Starts and whimpers of stops are possibly ‘End of Time’ as Inflationary moments fade as star dust trails begin and end as we ‘too-twos’ also always ‘do.’

‘Ancient Light and Ancient Stars.’

If time real does cease in a few more billions-of-years, the Universal Everything may also halt-grind-to-slow to stop. Could Would the Energy-of-Darkness the anti-gravitational singsong provide proof of the positive-of-the-negative? What if we are ‘looking backward’? What if the expansion of ‘Universe Accelerating’ is actually ‘Time’—slowing down? Unnoticed everyday yet so obvious when cosmic-scale-measures universe-tracking over billions of years? Ancient Light and Ancient Stars and the everlasting trails of Magic Dusts across the Eternal Sky…

We measure all things known and all things unknown. We treasure quantities, lengths of short, of tall and tales of being beings both big and small ‘because we are ‘Spirits of Creation’ we are ‘Creative Critters’ one-and-all.

And! Beautiful you are…

Stories of Life and Joyful Sounds…

“When it can be said by any country in the world, my poor are happy, neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them, my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars, the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive, the rational world is my friend because I am the friend of happiness. When these things can be said, then may that country boast its constitution and government. Independence is my happiness, the world is my country and my religion is to do good.” by Thomas Paine

No secrets on a lucid walk. A proposal of mystery so different as thinking not so much mystery as only plain plans and sweet whispers. Dawn slips away and day’s almost lightest and slightest sights commence. Gentle rain not storms are best although lightning and thunder is sometimes missed.

Now and then as the laughter of strings from harps’ sings transpires, as poetries dance along these leaves of parchment and thin tin portraits. Dust spreads across this land as too much wind and too late water cannot increase fast trickles and tickles of streams and lakes into oceans of fresh liquid ‘cross another salt-less-sea. And! On this sandy shore we will caress soft sounds and acquiesce to our sweetest songs.

Dancing glides of wheels and those of ice rails arrive via feet and our ancient selves of balance and twists of turns and freedom without the gravity of graves. And! Again, singing strings of violins and cellos and bass satisfy twilights with song and rhythm and rhyme. Fiddlers play music late into evenings and dancers form circles near fires of light and far from darkness empty space and silence.

Here and hear now heart calls and sobs sans light and waiting without notice then just waiting begins wanting again. What happiness happens is possibly happening on dust speckled earth-side through goals higher than justified. Please maintain happiness for dust speckled us. Is a dust-speckled ride a stand-alone stride a solitary goal without end and without beginning or without purpose, but-to-be-point free?

Together words of joyful life thru songs and sweet harmony and true balance, are melodies of love. Tales and lies and glories’ deceits and tall words, historic speak and heroic praise are not required when the fiddlers play. Then arises exact strings of liquid verse and those actions toward peace. Seek hopes’ beginning in fires of spirit strengths and life’s power.

Together, our story of magic life and world love just is…We venture into drying air and cross wet sands and blooms of desert flowers and fresh air. We rejoice with a firm knowledge of knowing thru almost certainty another night and an added brighter day. And! We appreciate the erudition of virtue and of wonderful desire and of noble love.

“A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defense of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason. “ by Thomas Paine

Gather now for rooms-to-find-to-fill have crowded again, and nourishment is consumed as others line sidewalks where grate-covered warmth wafts upward from Calimesa’s underground to ground and around those standing watch or asleep with one side-warm and one side cold or one side dead and one side gone. Again, the living and dying and the thinking of dying and praying of leaving or staying another moment or second or minute or hours of night-time’s twinkles or mornings’ wrinkles, remain.  Once flesh was fresh and spirit smooth and times of ages changed as faded lights start and stop and start again.

“May you hear every song in the Forest…And if ever you lose your own way…Hear my voice like a breeze whisper soft through the trees… May you stay in the arms of the Angels.”  From— ‘Lullaby for a Soldier’ by Dillon O’Brian

And! Beautiful you are…