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Jon Sawyer Apr 7
7 April 2024 - It just is. Time drives our 3D world forward. We can model back and forth, but we will never escape Time.
Renn Pat Nov 2022
The gray dark morning
Of an autumn blossom
Drab yet alive, forcing life
The world wants to slow
And my heart wants to sleep
Entropy moves, however enticing death may seem
Backed to a corner, we have no choice
But to awake
Mark Wanless Jun 2022
it is impossible to explain
   forever and one second are the same
without your time just make believe
AW Nov 2021
If even there were
A force in this universe
Sustaining life beyond just breath
Beyond this web of neurons
Firing in predictable patterns
Prescribing every inclination and desire
A flame in which is fully forged
The consciousness that
Dreams and dares all things
Beyond our mere survival

If even there were such a force
How would it be made known?
How does a foundation work
When the fundamental building blocks
Are massless, pointlike?
As much wave as particle
Basking in the sunlight of uncertainty
Existing in duality

How, when everything else is
A void a million billion times more extensive
Than anything substantial
That surrounds it
A vacuum that renders
The remaining matter pointless
How could force be hollow
Yet encompass all
What does it all mean
When all of matter falls in between

This unseen field
Rippling, wriggling, rigging
Everything it fills with the seedlings of decay
Each day
Moving along the breakdown towards
Splendid chaos,
Almost too perfect to be called such

How could we not see
The force
Still elusive, but unchanged
Striking a balance
Between fate and volatility
The neverending battle
That morphs each how into a why
The demon and the butterfly
The Science Sessions
dorian green Jul 2021
sunsets ripple across southern skies
like skipping stones across a pond.
i'm thinking about how we all die.
what will nothing feel like?
what did it feel like before?
i catch myself guessing -
the void and cold conjurings of a
scared temporary consciousness.
loneliness beckons and repulses me
in equal measures, existential inquiries
painting me into nihilistic corners.
is this just some brief gift?
i hem and haw and waste the light,
i become the universe i fear,
endlessly eating my thoughts,
embodying entropy as i gasp for air.
David Rissik Apr 2021
I close my eyes
Find myself alone with thought
What is thought?
What is what?
What is?
In the moment of silence
We experienced everything
A second for one
A lifetime for another
Moving between hot and cold
The cold darkness of nothing
The burning embers of creation
Bubbles pop in and out of existence
The abyss sits waiting for us to come home
The cold and heat disappear as equilibrium sets in
Entropy takes over and we become one
Francie Lynch Apr 2021
I'm looking at branches
With baby buds
Waiting to bubble open
Above seeded and fertilized lawns,
Growing lush between our toes,
Soft beneath reclining heads
Interpreting whales and camels above.

Moons rise. Suns set.

Our first home
Was a skeleton with skin shingles;
Floors with no sounds;
Rooms with no emotions.
The car, all shiny and new,
Left an oil stain on the asphalt.

Wheels are turning.

My innocent, wide-eyed believers
Now share the same blameless lies
With innocent, wide-eyed believers.

Suns rise. Moons set.

Don't eat that or drink this.
Roll up your sleeve.

Astronauts blasted off for the ISS
Wearing masks.
Before their return,
We will cut, rake, bag and burn.
Zoe Mei May 2021
“You are the universe in ecstatic motion.” –Rumi

I am endless infinite possibility,
a Boltzmann brain fluctuated from the
furious buzzing entropy thrilling the
scattered melted formless universe,
collapsed into the thin singularity string of
an impossible human being.
The world is testament to my stunning genius
a grand hallucination of my own creation
and I am my own invention.
JV Beaupre Feb 2021
In the beginning there was procrastination,
and I can't wait to start putting that off.

To begin or not to begin that divides us all.

Deferring action never increases entropy,
and lengthens the life of the universe.

Completion happens once, but delay has no limit.

I'm not dithering, just exploring all the options.

This "beginning" poem has just been hijacked by hesitation,
and dragged down the rat hole of reluctance.

Oh well, there is always tomorrow.
One can always say, my muse took a snooze.
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