If we can only connect to others that vibrate at the same frequency, are you alone when there are none that do?

If you alter your frequency to be heard by others. at what point are you no longer you?

How many edits does it take for a story to no longer be the authors?

If we all acquiesce to one frequency are we just noise

Can we retune to our original frequencies and find beauty in chaos?

Others hear white noise, I hear a rhythmic beat...

Why can’t you hear my song?

Can we find a simple rhythm to dance to...?

We are the jarring, friction, screeching in an engine...the oil will help us listen and hear

Flocking to its sparkling, jewel encrusted side...worshiping in all forms...never able to conquer its salty depths...always in its awe...glimpsing its endless treasures...our love has become abusive...yet she reminds us that we can and will never win in this timeless battle of wills..she will conquer us and we shall crumble in to her fathomless belly

From her erupts, beauty, dreamlike worlds beneath the waves, fire and rock and sustenance ...she gives birth to land, life and death...

Harmonious, perfection, why try to imitate it...just move to its rhythm...

From chaos we are born
To chaos we return
Why would the journey be anything else
Futile unrequited attempts to tame her
We are just a coalescence of atoms - fleeting form - fleeting

At peace with the rhythm not in conflict
Why do we grind the gears
We fight against it
Yet we can just allow it

We are happy when we are free, why aren’t we free. Carbon carbon everywhere...we are made of it...the stuff of stars...it is going to **** us...chaos wins...

Nature will not be bottled...will not be contained - the friction we create - a desire to find order where there is none

The moment we became conscious was the most nature started to tear us apart

It wants us back...she will get us back....

We are just the stuff of stars