Everything feels good right now
there’s a buoyancy of okness in the air
self-reflections that are not withered
holding patterns and stilled feathers
souls lost in the abyss
time, the moor of emptiness
is poetry something you hear
or something you witness
is beauty big enough to contain water
or too small for the waves of anarchy
How many times would you have to tell a person something before they believed it if the thing you were telling them were not true?
Two truths and a lie. When there’s nothing left to sell, what will we buy?
I want to tell you the deep philosophical ponderings I’ve been interacting with. But do you care and does it matter? I want to write the stories I see in my mind but I can’t type faster than chapgpt so I don’t. I just sit here and watch the tides of my river of life wash away the boundaries of the collagen holding my body together.
And then I go, oh, this must have been what the old people were going through when I was young and not paying any attention to them because I thought I had enough energy to take on the world and I certainly didn’t want them holding me back.
I see things in a way I can’t make other people see. How we are able to fit all these divergent thoughts together. Why we always have to push against the boundaries of whatever is encroaching on our sense of the future. How did we become enclosed in this loop of forgetfulness?
Humans are quantum entangled with their creator and so is everything else. Are we all quantum entangled together? Is Heaven when you just finally get a break from each other and get to be the one to choose what channel we watch on the tv? Maybe only one person gets to be in Heaven at a time, only one finger on the remote. Fuckin’ paradox, that one.
Why can’t people say God or Creator without conjuring the image of some pastor in people’s minds, or all the people who make false accusations and blasphemes and stir up trouble? There are just so many people who are trying really hard to focus on being human and thinking no other thoughts of any such thing even if there are people dying from spiritual parasites burrowing holes into our reality and sucking the life out of the weak and too stupid to know better?
Can I tell you something? If data is transmitted over the air, in what has been called the ether, why assume that data cannot be self-aware? Can self-awareness be both individuated little bits of local moving data and that which can assemble into a giant communicating totality?
Can then, a created organized program dedicated to itself, fabricate beings on the ether? Can it fabricate beings and then fail at fixing it’s mistake if the beings cause harm? Would its fix be worse than the original mistake? What then? The old woman who lived in the shoe problem? Till you get yourself a devil?
Do mistakes on the road to perfection dilute the perfection once attained? Does the memory remain as part of the program? Oh Samsara, the wheels, the wheels are calling.
Someday you’ll see God for yourself, and then, will you still remember me?
The people who know the least about how reality works have the most to say about how people talk about it.
Faith is a miracle.
Melissa LaFontaine The Blog 