It's unbearable to hear the blind speak of light
Or the dead teaching the dead how to live
And liars affirming liars with yet more lies
But alas inescapable is this babelic cacophony
I run, far into the wilderness, but woe upon me clings
Thus I close my eyes, shut my ears, seal my tongue
Wrap myself in the dark depths of desolation
And like the dead, slip into the silence of the void

There is a face in the mist,
One that belongs not to me,
And it stares into my eyes,
Knowingly.
Tell me what you know!
For what have you come?
Why do you reach across the mists,
And stare?

One lesson you can learn now,
Is nothing in life is free.
                                                                    It takes many nights of tears,
To celebrate days of joy.
                                                                  And it'll take many night falls,
Before the sun shines again.
                                                                  So don't waste what you have,
Lest you regret not having it.

Well since we dont have enough math knowledgeto fully solve it we need one of the futuristic mathematical stuff using logic and intuition like they did back in prehistory to discover current maths. I believe the whole mathematical system works by following the golden ratio meaning everything will end how golden ratio ends. Which means RH could possibly end at complete 0 or ½. Why? Bcs it would fit to the golden ratio and also golden ratio is everywhere. Also as t takes up space it will have to end at some point and the largest 0 we could get is 0

Well math and philosophy need ro be together in order to discover new mathematical approaches and to advance maths. I know it wouldn't be approved but it can be used for more futuristic mathematical stuff making math knowledge expand with this idea

So common for its ease,
Like feathers wandering in the afternoon breeze;
So trivial, lacking empathy,
Like humans subjugating nature.

So easy to deny knowledge,
Like fake news carried by the constant breeze;
So common, without understanding,
Like information without discernment.

Lacking empathy;
Respect is disregarded;
The other is excluded;
Vision is closed;
One's own interests are prioritized.

For unfounded beliefs,
Without seeing the facts
That reveal the subjectivity
Of the view of one or of many,
Which, nevertheless, does not define
Wisdom, knowledge, discernment –
So relative, even through reason.

Like cattle in false pens,
They prefer to be guided
Rather than seek and uncover,
To think, test, and define.
Belief, prejudice
Or time?
The misinformation of people is maintained,
Trapped by the interests of certain exclusive groups.

And I, thinking,
Without destination,
Reflecting on myself,
Confused,
Spreading uncertain concepts,
Certain knowledges,
Modified.

...when I found out that coal power plant ash produces more uranium, toxic chemicals and heavy metals than nuclear power plants.

I’ll take a stroll
through wintry night air
to free my mind
from its dark wisps and snares.

While walking in the night’s leaden fog
that weighs upon both eyes and mind,
a building emerges from dampening slog
adorned with columns of marble refined.

The fog oppresses all the known world,
with eyes and ears slammed shut by fear.
Its thralls have spread, its pall unfurled
to wring out all sense of what was clear.

And yet: Here rises
from black fog’s embrace
the lights of a campus
that spite fog’s dimming wastes.

Upon building’s brow, above the main gate,
two words inscribed. Letters gleam through gloom
and icy tendrils of iron mist’s weight:
“Auditorium Maximum” —

— the place of the greatest hearing.
If only this hall could vastly hold
the sum of all in fog a-fearing,
to teach each to hear and be thus consoled.

To live in more than piecemeal peace
in a heartily hearth-warmed hall
where all must learn the art of hearing,
to share in the greatest art of all.

I know the power of the rising tide
For beneath my feet rests the shifting sands of time
Always ebbing and flowing the water dost erode
Each wave tugging and pulling
The tiny grains betwixt my toes

As the surf rises my foundations wither
Casting evil eye to swollen sea my thoughts swell bitter
When my balance is interrupted by systematic crashes
Gradually displacing and replacing
My position along its axis

Until finally I am interred within that salty tomb
Buried under heavy weight of time ne’er to be exhumed
Less the tide decide to recede and expose
The monument to a man
Who had once claimed to know

I keep weighing up

what is good for me, do I --


want to know or not?