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Lost is she
in the shade
beneath a tree

All chaos
left behind
she is free to
change
her mind
Death, whose guise is end to sorrow,
sells salvation 'til tomorrow.
September 17, 2022
I want to be
Like
Entangled particles,
You and me,
Wherever we are
I'll know how you feel.
Subatomic 'twins' photons created by splitting a single photon in half.
I am paralyzed with grief
sinking into unknown
depths of despair
trying to remember
how to breath

knowing the worst
is yet to come

cruelty smiles on
the nearby horizon
hatred is sharpening its nails
ready to crucify
anything in its path

history set to repeat itself
our haunted past
being dragged into
the present and future days

heavy is the heart that
must hold onto hope
throughout this darkness

that must love
in the face of hatred

that has to uphold peace
against the pounding
fists of violence  

so with heavy hearts
we must move on

and remember
how to breath

and breath

and move

on

and

on
Even in silence
  there is music
    there is always music
no matter the depth
  of grief or sorrow
    there is always music
and where there is music
  there is love
a long time, years later

Clown fishing, casts a line, running water, let it be thine own
and not another's with thee,
y'see privileged evolved symbionts, not all clownfish
resist the poison of safety under nigh effortless living,

as part of the whole truth a child's faith can swear to tell.

A play at whim,
with naught but words fluencing
the beam
I-
me up, you, Igor ego, report

we be
a reader ready thus far
we are now
alivin' pro-verb and a by-word
a ready writer
hero/sidekick entanglish script
a sit-a-spell twang
twine
twisted through the bards sense ever
vates seemed to vanish from mind
after war's last nervous twitch
was mollified

Scripture, dude. Mollified's a Bible word,
that must make it mean more
now, right?

DID, deident de-if, re-if

I'd imagine magi-
sense like you imagine The Force
reboot
or virtue felt flowing from your left ear
inexplicably
filtering any lingering apophenic
para-noid

stretches, tendencies, of the imaginary

cover. Dis be dat.

Bubble-inside-edge, flat as a bubble

this big
can seem
from here.

--- narrator VOG, insider anachronism
-- thunder. STOP breathe

k-thunk. putcha little foot right down

we got this rinka fidda long dance vibe

meme-ing ments where noments was

apophenia is real here, everything holds meaning.

a moment. May we speak. We read these

signals for help, as if help were all we're called for,
to order good be squeezed from chaos,
we bein salt
we hear

wolf worlf wworlfff- one time

peaceful as all *** out, we exhale

die, if y'wish. Prove it's a holographic illusion and
not you.

- this reminds me of a time
historytime, when we was drinkinotdrunk

we was actually throwing one side of the road
to the other

and nobody cared, it was okeh

minority report level impossible task, but words,

living words, written or proper spoke mit setting set,

we can do anything you think you can
frame within

tainers enterible by others with Rheastatic creativity mods.

Bubbles in the wine, moving it self aright,
was there some warning I

ignored for its occluded e-sense?

am am am i ever yes geo-time tic wait

apophenia (n.)
"tendency to perceive meaningful connections
between unrelated things," 1961, f
rom German Apophänie, said
to have been coined 1958 b
y psychiatrist Klaus Conrad,
from Greek apophainein "
to show, make known, show
by reasoning, produce evidence,"
from apo- "from" (see apo-)
+ phainein " to show, cause to appear"
(from PIE root *bha- (1) "to shine").
The last lines in an adventure with Grok3 in my present sleepdeepruveble
state, I did not sleep at all last night and woke to
beautiful flower

carried away in the storm
laid down in a thicket of thorns.

who will morn
the dancer and sinking sky?
the raven with a broken wing?
who will cry for you? O, flower
folded in the forgotten book of sorrow.
now, a shadow and a name and a tombstone.

my flower, my rose without thorns.

I'm gonna get my shotgun
climb the water tower,
shoot the stars full of lost tomorrows.
Your pain
Your disappointments
Your losses
Your mistakes
Then the rain stops
Storms end
Rainbows appear
Hopefully the dark clouds  become the Bluest  of skies
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