MIRACLE OF MIRACLES

The miracle of miracles is infinity.
Those searching for the beginning
of the Cosmos will never find it, and
those searching for the end of
the Cosmos will never find it, be-
cause there is no beginning and
there is no end. The Cosmos is
infinite. You and I are miracles.
Every blade of grass is a miracle.
Every microscopic organism is a
miracle. Indeed, every creation in
the Cosmos is a miracle. The mys-
tery is why we seem to experience
our exIstence, and all we encounter
in it, as reality when, in fact, that is
patently untrue. The finite is an
illusion:  to wit, take a 12-inch
ruler and divide it by 2, then
divide 6 by 2, then 3 by 2, then
1 ½ by 2, then ¾ by 2, then ⅜
by 2, then 3/16 by 2, then 3/32
by 2, then 3/64, then 3/128 by
2, then 256 by 2, and so on.
You can do this infinitely. I did
this in 6th grade, and this is
how I discovered that infin-
Ity, not the finite, was reality.
Regardless, what remains of
the illusion of the seeming finite?
What purpose does it serve? My
only idea is my own notion “Know
truth by untruth,” a paradox in its
own making. The illusion of
the finite remains a mystery,
but it has never been a miracle.
Einstein spent the last 30 years
of his life trying to prove the
Unified Field Theory, but
never could. I believe he
thwarted his own efforts
because he was using finite
principles instead of the reality
of infinity.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

No more magic: magic dreams, magic realities. Does this seem backwards and ludicrous of me to state such a wish? Potentially.

Yet I do not wish such upon all domains: it's more a fallacy from wariness. Yet, even an idle wish cannot change the course of action already in motion.

Ergo, if anyone still vehemently disagrees with the notion of my half wish after the intricacies are spilled upon the table; do as you will. Yet tread with caution, as you've been given heed.

To embrace the multifaceted, multidimensional level of intricate details which form the building blocks of the nature of such a claim and infinity; reviewing and understanding a few core concepts is necessary.

Magic is essentially the higher understanding and manipulation of nature. A form of knowledge, if you will.

Knowledge consists of one of the many pathways or permutations used to control for power.

What of power? Well, within the hands of an undisciplined mind, it is a means of corruption.

This does not insinuate that the presence of power is a causal link for corruption. Not in full. Yet enough power paired with an undisciplined mind can result in corruption. One might find themselves signing over the soul at the drop of a dime.

Furthermore, even for those possessing an extremely disciplined and engrained sense of virtue; power can corrupt if given enough time and the proper circumstances.


Despite this understanding, if given the opportunity: I'd pick magic **** near every time.


“I can change” we'd say; after the thousandth retake of the same test of willpower, of failed temperance and appetites. This is cried out to the sky only upon recalling the aftermath of damage caused.

Perhaps we could change.
Yet we vow this each time before starting the process anew; our memories wiped.

Memory is grand, yet it is our virtue that holds the key, that which truly counts. This too can be learned, relearned, compromised, expanded upon. It is not a static state. It adapts, lives, breathes, thrives; and you better believe it's intelligent. (As all energy is intelligent.)

Throw the two together, along with a few more ingredients, and one is given the comprising elements governing most everything; to some degree or another.


“There is no good or evil; there is only power, and those too weak to seek it.”


Not quite. This is a ****** half truth of blind lunacy stemming from everyone who has and shall always be nobody else but you. This is the face of corruption fueled by power, resting inside us all.

Yet it does not encompass all layers. No.

It is every single one of those things, and none of them.
It is the compromised result of all infinite possibilities in between: of everything all at once, until it IS only One; encompassing each subsequent pause and division in between.

It is the unification, the separation, the battle and harmony between form and void; and of the constant, neverending, infinite, perpetual vacuum of everything and nothing in-between all fluctuating at different rates and degrees.

Any reality you could ever imagine, (be it surface level; or diving into one of the immesurable infinities, or somewhere in between) - it has either happened; is currently occuring; or will come to pass at some point.

Time does not exist in the same constraints we are accustomed to. It is cyclical, recursive, nonlinear, and in states of quantum superposition (or cognition) - all happening at once.

Over an unutterable infinity, or within the blink of a cosmic eye. Yet who is to say that these two notions are not the same?

Infinitely many is just the comprised collective innumerable counterpart of One.

Imagine DNA. When broken down at the subatomic molecular level; it is infinitely small. Yet it creates the human body: the same blueprint present everywhere.

Out of the microscopic level of infinitely small forms larger layers. DNA creates the neurons within the human brain. Jumping out a layer: this forms the whole of the brain. Then the human body. It magnifies to the entire collective of human bodies.

This in turn creates the cells for another strand of DNA within a larger One. More neurons. Brain. The body™ of that larger One. The collective bodies of the collective of Ones. Repeat this cycle ad infinitum.

It is always One; but how it appears depends on the level of infinity you're dealing with and envisioning at that given moment.

---------------------------------------------------

So go ahead and tell me, child.
Would it all have been worthwhile
To tread upon Eliot's allusiory notion
Having bitten off the matter with a smile
Negating warnings, blinded by devotion?
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
During our days to ****** and create
Amnesic to past transgressions of a dying fall
Divulging the insidious question upon our plate?
Daring to disturb the song of the universe
Repeating the same indecisions and revisions
In which we must ultimately reverse?

this one's for you
for walking into the thick of the forest
and building yourself a shed
the woods are understanding
know what it is like to be crowded
and you insist you are not lost
only that you do not want to be found
but the secret trail you've left
although hidden and inaccessible
tells otherwise somehow

this one's for you
the self-made architect and carpenter
your stained glass windows
reflect your religion
you have made gods
out of beauty and kindness
but the followers stand outside
unable to profess their devotion
you have neglected to notice
you've built your walls too high

this one's for you
for being the world champion
in forever hide-and-seek
they say it is impossible
to ever count to infinity
but you have no fault in this
for seeing no end
people say you are childish
but it seems impossible not to relive
a childhood stolen away

this one's for you
the self-proclaimed unloveable
feel the sun kiss your skin
and the moon keep you company
you have not seen your joy
from a third-person's point of view
and you have concluded
that beauty is an omnipresence
if it truly is everywhere
why cannot you see it in you?

I love music
But can only sing flat.
And I can’t play musical instruments
With their baffling array of keys or strings.
So, I try to write music with words.
For I also love to write.

Distant misty hills beckon my soul
To fly amongst banks of swirling clouds
Then up into the stars.

The impossible mystery of infinity intrigues me:
Beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond…
Endless stories unfold before us
(Yes, you can come too!)
Eternity that has no horizon.

I love to love
My love,
For love makes the world go round
Or so I heard.
I love all plants and animals
And people too:
All that Mother Multiverse has spawned
And reared.

Love is all we need
They sang
And they were right.
So let’s get loved up
With lorra loving.
Feel that love.

For that’s why I write.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\2\2020.

APHORISM XXXII

If you add all the numbers in infinity, the sum will be 1.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

we need
to be
careful,
when it's me
and you,
it's infinity
and beyond,
and we want
to settle
here,
in each others''
arms.

Infinity isn't a number
And nor am I.