#consciouness
The soul is Calabi-Yau
every quality of topological string theory
correlates to the workings of my consciousness.
String theory,
I used to refuse,
but from topological soul,
to spacetime soul,
finally to what is here expressed.
May 24, 2021
May 24, 2021 at 1:13 AM UTC
In the dense of the forest
I feel your mighty presence
In the whistle of the wind
I hear your voice
I see your beckon hidden in the shaking of the leaves
Your energy is present in the sun
and radiates through the horizon
Mountains and valleys spell out your mystery
Ocean and the sea live to tell your might
Open our eyes and see Gods presence curved in nature
Extraordinary beauty that no words can describe
God reigns in your midst
God reigns within your essence
God is all there is and all that is not
©Sonia Ettyang
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
She's a library of consciousness,
putting books of recollection
within the shelf's of anthology.
Some times she's looking for her
favourite memories only to
find they are deleted volumes.
Regrettably some editions are discontinued
because revised version are better
than there predecessors.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 3:57 PM UTC
My secret place began with a big bang, expanding as space divided and multiplied.
Intersections and dark lines forming strange corridors
Watching each mass in flux become its own synaptic map.
Gloomy ghosts of the past intersecting with visions of the present.
Energy always pushing forward constantly rerouting old wiring.
My secret place is a radiating pool reflecting infinity within a cave of glowing moss.
Shallow puddles paint theses surfaces but beneath their glimmering façade
There are endless depths funneling to dimensions beyond my own comprehension
Worlds of what if and why not places where loved ones are never lost just locked away
Saved in an astral plane to be remembered any day I choose.
Emotions are evident through the rocks as they cycle through cliché colors
Red for rage, blue for despair, green for calm, and purple for passion.
Siren songs of yester everything echo through the wet walls
Sounding lamentation and celebrations of every degree
From overjoyed and apathetic to all the shades of agony.
Angels and demons manifest in varying degrees of desire.
Ego and id sipping slime from the pulsing membrane of the cave walls.
Red rocks thumping like an African drums beating to the rhythm of my heart.
For some their sacred secret place is a safe zone but my home is fraught with danger.
There is always ying and yang *** for tat.
Abstract things born to balances great happiness with deep sadness,
So I can appreciate the beauty and irony because security is an illusion and stability is for fools.
My secret place is fluid always adapting to me, a changing sea unencumbered by destiny.
Better than Wonderland worse than Neverland, and almost as sweet as OZ.
I won’t lose my head but I may lose my heart while flying far to slow to start.
All dreams and fantasies rise and fall from within these corridors.
Prison cells of DNA forms certain passageways flaring with neurotransmitters.
My secret place will fall one day receding into the dark shadows of collapsing stars
Be ****** up into the grand void of space and spit out a wasted mass of molecules.
No matter how hard I try to describe this, you will never really know my world.
As I will never live in yours, so I wonder what is your secret space like?
May 17, 2016
May 17, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
In the name of the Zenith,
the Nadir, and the Meridian.
I’ll follow Vivienne
to the waters of oblivion.
© Matthew Harlovic
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC