When an astronomer says, very densely packed,
of matter - as in the Oort cloud,
he is in another scale of thought, augmented
by science used with knowledge of
fore gone conclusions as to
metrics on con sci user's
speed of thought,
where
reality doesn't care if you believe it or not.

We are all past-understanding,
we are the lifeship earth peace makers,
the entire crew, auto, right, mathic-myth,
sentience intended to manifest
in time to make that
final ******
pop the bubble of babble's biggest fuss
race
to spew the luke warm from my mouth and watch,
each drop of venom sprouts a rod
of an almond tree.

{I predicted the return of this riddle}
Maybe and whatif are not
ex-act-ed-ly, no, actually
-- see, slow… see
maybe and trust are crushed words, compacted
as the density of any den of thieves becomes
assumedwiseasstreetspunky, slang, coo'
thoughts merge from phrases to signals
true rest may be, if we survive
next as we imagine it,

resting in truth, matters or not,
spirit of philio or spirit of sophia,
we agree,

shoulder to shoulder, elbo-grease and oompha
songs,
hup, we hup, we lift the foot from the mud,

find the boot has lost its irony soul,
sould,
American, LSMFT, never forget!!

When the joker told the thief of the must be
way, the liar, himself, believed
the whole story…

that was magic, not a trick, not a cheat.
You know reality does not care.

{evidence, in the mystery of iniquity working thread}

The reason beauty is, is you. Seeing, you doing the
seeing, witnessing the irrationality
of iridescent humming birds
playing in my cloudless
January sunset,

all along the 33rd parallel.