"conceptually" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form . Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet . As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form . The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction . The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born. Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved . Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility . Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation. Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form . Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet . As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form . The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction . The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born. Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved . Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility . Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation . Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
I try to sing this melody
Of my own fidelity
But I lack this morality
That tells me the reality
Of a life in harmony
With spirits heavenly
I am my own entity
And when I show this identity
It has no truth to humanity
So I speak in brevity
To hide the perplexity
That only few conceptually
Embrace with full integrity
To soar in the clouds joyfully
Like the eagles in serenity
And the gods of heredity
We are the truthful society
Yet know one knows it verily
I will continue transcendently
Like the lotus in her artistry
I will paint mindfully
The visage of prosperity
In all its beauty
So vividly
Until I rest solemnly
In my garden above the galaxy
Where all who truthfully
Flew with divinity
In utter tranquility
While this world unfaithfully
Decayed presently
In the lies of commonality
In this globe of duality
Don’t sing this parody
Avoid the practicality
Your song is skillfully
Hiding from the animosity
You will have your symphony
In a sky of pure unity
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
Etymologically,
paradise
is inherited from the Latin
paradisus
and the Greek
paradeisos
and ultimately an ancient Iranian root --
pairi daêza.
In theory, paradise is a religious term. By that definition, paradise is a place in which existence is positive, harmonious and timeless. It is conceptually a counter-image of the miseries of human civilization; in paradise, there is only peace, prosperity, and happiness.
It’s absurd, though, how we provide ourselves with such a convenient idea, a carrot for all mankind to share in our relentless drive towards death. It’s absurd that we must rely on such nonsensical ideals to inspire us to adhere to literal, arbitrarily-dictated morals. “Thou shalt not do things we say you probably shouldn’t.
Except sometimes.”
“Actually, whenever, as long as you feel bad about it and spend a moment kneeling quietly and thinking something along the lines of ‘So, like, sorry -- my bad. It won’t happen again, unless it does.’”
The fundamental mistake here is attempting to delineate the existence of Man with an old book and relentless propaganda and childhood indoctrination and threats of post-mortem punishment, but more on topic -- why can’t one just live the right way without this kind of artificial motivation? It’s a juvenile concept that we’ve taken much too far. It marginalizes the human race -- “listen, Man, if you eat all your broccoli, then you can have dessert.” But what happens in this situation, when the dessert isn’t real?
What I mean to say is that maybe you should eat your broccoli because it’s healthy, and because, besides what society has attempted to instill in you, it might actually be tasty if you give it a chance.
Live for now. Care about people now. Because you don’t get anything afterwards; however cynical it may be, dessert is just a cold grave or a flame designed for whole incineration of your being. Paradise is now.
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:16 PM UTC
I lay one night under a wan lamp-light
Thinking of the pursuit of absolutes.
I couldn’t find the needed time
To analyze what I wanted to.
So - This thinking slowly turned to dreaming
And later these few things I did recount,
- A vacant view of wasting progress,
A reversal of streams to their fount.
A deconstruction of action, some cosmic reduction,
Some flight of things that mattered.
The inexorable picking of lock-step existing-
Dreamfields broken. Syntax battered.
Then this slowing movement rose
To some crest in my mocking mind;
And in horror, I met the morrow
with new respect for the conceptually refined-
For the march of progress, the passion in potential,
The power of merely thinking!
For in our discourses of absolute forces
What could be worse than the erasure of meaning?
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 12:08 AM UTC
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.
11/2/16 11:59 p
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
Surrendering myself to a most omniscient and superior presence I do recall--
a bliss of serene emotion, nothing could befall
A wormhole of colorful fractals my eyes consume;
absent of all fear, my soul begins to bloom
A beautiful vessel of the innerverse I take;
a tour of the mind, humbly I wait
Indescribable realms I am apprised, conceptually unfathomable to the conscious mind;
Scenes of divine aesthetics flood my eyes, myself I begin to find
Intense elation-- equivalent to a lifetime of *********** I am granted as I come to;
Forever indebted to this ritual which has been deemed so taboo
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 12:41 AM UTC
As a lifelong adventure I eclipsed the generation I was grown up with
felt so much that turned wrong and sad on November 12, 1934
should have been born different
I kept up to date and conceptually relate
I would have been honored to be at Woodstock it's like I was there
in my head and psychedelics and mushrooms
were my references and Beatniks along with
Carlos Casteneda influenced me from deserts .
My philosophy grew and reasoned, until now where I see greed and
possessions are so important.
I never lost the dream, though,
of Peace on Earth.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 10:13 PM UTC
Tick tock tick tock
Is their any difference between a tick and a tock?
I mean conceptually of course
Not just the workings of a clock
I guess the ticks are every moment
And the tocks is what will be
All tocks become ticks
But all tick tocks go eventually
Not to worry
I care more though in concepts
Of looking past our man made time
Ticks and tocks don't really matter
If you don't pay them any mind
That's a funny thought though
I like that actually
Paying time our money
Money equals time they say
But to me it's a little funny
Cause what if you don't care for money or time?
What then defines your existence of being alive?
I mean to me a more sound measure
Is perhaps the pleasure
Of feeling my heart beating
A personal repeating of self made time and space
And once that tickers gone
I'm sure to follow along to our final resting place
Fitting we call our hearts the good old ticker then, hey?
My lungs are therefore the tocks
Like two little personal clocks
Working together differently
But in symbiotic harmony
All beats become breaths and all breaths pass by eventually
To me this seems a more valid sense of time
Like when you think of the sublime setting of the sun
Moments as these seem to slow down
And you're stuck in blissful entraption
Some moments just go so fast
And some feel like the last an eternity
And all the while inside me
My heart and lungs slow and speed accordingly
It's quite beautiful actually
Cause now when I think of us
I can count what you mean to me
115,200 ticks of my heart
30,000 tocks of my breath
Those are my average daily rates at rest
80 ticks of heart a minute
30 tocks of air
But around you I am sure
These numbers rise beyond anything compared
Like when I first met you
I think my ticks were at least at 122
Yes to be fair
My breaths fell short in some way
I guess from all the kissing to be had that day
And when we first made love
I felt like both were above
Anything I have ever felt before
And darling
If I could store my ticks and stocks in a special place for you
Reserve them in a bank for us to save
For special days between us two
I think it's safe to say
I'd gladly let you withdraw and take
All my beats and breaths away
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Caffeine curdled with cannabis
a rushing stream of nerves
corrupting my senses
stalling the hunger
arousing the amygdala
to focus on what?
Connaturally knowing
through text I display
sketchbook paper smudged
with charcoal black
the color of my mood
keeping my will at bay
Too many words
not enough time
relative to all
conceptually absolute
mentally resolute
emotionally destitute
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form . Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to its progression because realistically nothing had happened yet . As it continued it became according to its innate inflections as a functionally integrable form . The questionably understandable nature of its conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction . The enigmatic consciousness of its relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of its interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born. Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of its conjunction yet the totality of its ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet its diversity exceeded its physical complexity , understanding evolved . Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility . Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation. Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 2:52 AM UTC
The corruption within the global system, it's not fictional or an emphasized criticizm, they got people to where they're delusional, it's all apart of their plan like the militarizing of police, they don't give a **** about you but you may deny it and continue on being blinded, that's your choice just know that you're being subliminally confinded, I'm not a terrorist I'm just trying to spread knowledge through the art of hip-hop no I can't stop cause it'll **** with me, if I do I'll want to write inevidably cause I'm indefinately spitting knowledge conceptually, some of you may not understand my message but that's fine cause at least I'm not corruptly infested by the governments' manifested interfection like cancer when they know they got a cure, but they use it as a profitizer to lure people fattening their insecure feeble, without us they're nothing but a group of conceted people thinking they're more important than anything, some wouldn't dare to say a thing against their cause, but when one speaks up then others do the same, they're to blame for the economic crisis' it's hard to bite this but they keep billions that's supposed to go to us, why do you think people are losing trust, the systems a bust and nows the time to fix it, but I can't do it alone we need everyone to pitch in to shift it, revolution'll come and you won't miss the fictional freedom that was fed to us, we'll learn again what it's like to be self-sufficient and keep corruption out cause that isn't a systems right nutrition
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
I opened the leaflet
By what means did we get
To shore in a matter of months.
Oh heat from exhaustion
And meat from the lost bin
I’m captain on all equal fronts.
So sure of the story
By some things that lure me
I know by a flagon of beer.
So false are the reasons
But yet we’re still seasoned
To occasionally stumble upon here.
Real Estate at the
Top of the lake is well aware of
Equilibrium
Tell my Dad and my
Brother too and you might as well
Tell the rest of them
Capture and conquest and capital clues
All by nature as conceptually true
Canceling cannons and appraising for food
Can’t consistently measure the facts from some fools
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 6:50 PM UTC
They say artists
are tortured
Conceptually
Figuratively
Also literally
Some create through chaos
Out of seeds of destruction comes
a harsh beauty born of the artisans
experience of the world
Some express through their tears
their captivity, and from this
brutality again comes beauty
Joy
Ecstasy
emotive threads bind us
Loss
Sorrow
it's soft ether numbing us
Driving us to tears
To apathy or
to death
Or to Art
As a means to fight for
something beautiful
A means to resist the cut of the knife
As a means to make
Something that would make her smile
Capture that glow
Make him bite his lip
to hold back tears
Make us see beyond our limited realities
And fears
Make me whole again
With stanzas, Indian ink staining our fingers
With stitches, tapestries of lives long past
With music, that can transport us to the depths of depression
As elevate us to the strata above in one refrain
With paint stained brushes
With spray on trains
Art as protest
Artists are amongst the first in those
waves of repression
cultural victims, with science
following at its heels
Persecution ******* their steps
The possibility of losing your life
for the creative output
.. and many have
let's not forget
So art is born of pain, perhaps
and some from joy as quickly
as from fear
Regardless of its origin
You know when you find that spark
You understand intrinsically
That light as brain and heart ignite
And you breathe catches, ragged, rhythmically
In your mind, alive
Exist in perfect time with appreciation
In this space for here lives Art
Be touched by the pain or joy
Sorrow or longing
Be embraced by flow
of words and style
My chest tightens
and eyes mist
This is the artists tortured soul on display
They placed it there
for me
So all could see
what was laid bare
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 6:05 PM UTC
My world filled with negatives
But, I choose to
Multiply pair of negatives to
Make them positive
Yes, you do need some negative
In order to achieve something positive
Conceptually, a negative going sine wave
Too have same amplitude of positive that's what
supporting our appliances in collaboration
With positive
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
The result of life is death
The price of life is your sanity
The toxins leach more from each drawn breath
Eating away at both mind and body
One day more replaces you with one day less
A simple enough concept conceptually
Everything living is born with this terminal illness
No one has ever survived this tragedy
©2024
Aug 29, 2024
Aug 29, 2024 at 6:36 PM UTC
for JmF
some of us live 16 floors above sea level
upon arrogant Jericho walls that can't ever harrumph
Humptydumpty come tumbling all the way down to be
@see level
some of us on concrete flooring,
to an asphalt street mooring,
sleeping safe in a baby's crib bed,
firm mattress soundly, and firmly foolish believing,
no earth belching upheaval, no way Pompei here,
could ere put them at risk of
awakening beneath and below the
@see level
some of us on four wheels,
calling car, trailer, shelter, home sweetest,
having conceptually realized that
real liberty is the mobility of the mindful
when cruising
@see level
most of us envy those who live upon gently
rocking seductive waves lapping
forgetting that sometimes
the water and the mind demands
your presence down below,
brooking no excused delay,
to an en-graved invitation to meet
@see level
some sleep upon grass soil dirt
not our own, lacking title,
nonetheless, calling it my old Kentucky entitlement,
though not by any state deemed as mine,
for what is home ownership,
upon a sea tempest solid all share,
that owns us, when
@see level
it matters so little where we reside -
foliage coverage, fallout shelter, lean-to,
an in-ground swimming pool or a root cellar,
sheets pulled up to underneath
our see level chins -
it is our minds ever waving
and surely ever wavering,
deciding for us
where we truly live and how(l)
and never @where,
however modestly,
we distinguish our selves
when we are mindful
@see level
palace or park -
I've slept in them all -
as master and owner,
guest and slave,
in the dungeon and the presidential suite,
home to the haves resting precarious on the backs
of the have-nots
way above the
@see level
but all true men true
acknowledge the surety of their mind for
@ see level
true north intuitive in our common compass
and life's station matters -
not a lousy dollar's worth of whit
cause
we all lie prone in this mind's zone,
in equality, upon the good earth,
beneath god and his changeable erratic sky,
@see level
free floating midst the mind's insightful
signature quality of light hitting the waters of our fluids,
window wonderful for concentrated clarity
for @see level comes
the equality of reality
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 5:44 PM UTC
I'm sick of everything being so
Tentative
Sick of repetitive
Sick of the space in between
Being filled with a sedative
What's left for remarks
Has lost all it's spark
And any chance to turn and dance
Now contemplated as a farce
No swimming in the let go
Too perplexed with the undertow
And a personal perpetual head hunt
That conceptually returns
Then comes and goes.
I scream. Can I stop carrying these Boulders?
It seems the second
I relax my shoulders
Is the very instant that my desolate Impending doom smolders
I test tracing lines to vent my crimes But the paper seems like a stranger
My last confidant left to respond
Was taunting this balled up anger
"It would have never happened
If you weren't distracted.
And paid a little attention
And gave a little practice.
Your talent has been squandered.
Your very soul grows cold
Like an overlaundered actress.
Maybe if you spent some time to write and rhyme you'd have something
To show for it
Maybe if you weren't a voodoo doll Filled with push pins
In that instant you wouldn't blow it.
Maybe if you had the patience
To plant that seed you could grow it.
And instead of extinguishing
The first sign of a spark or fire
You would just know it."
It's like being caught in an interview Between the lie you tell yourself
And the distant truth
And the web you weave
Has too many deviations
And you grow confused
You grow tired and old
And feel just as abused
Then a simulated head rush it seems
With two strokes of the pens brush
Can softly whisper sweet things
While your cheeks turn to red blush
Then comes back around
To bite you like a viper
When you realize you grew Complacent and despise to
Naturally get hyper
The life you could have then
Gradually escapes the vice
Of your fingers
And here's the final zinger
That kind of sentiment will linger
The hallowed out version of you Stepping in to be the ringer
When all you ever feel is to reveal That you're actually a singer
That you actually have more talent Than most in your little finger
If you could just stop getting caught up In what was brought up,
What he said she said
And all those things
That make you malinger
So wake me up when it's all over
Get me off this roller coaster
Take me away to that sweet place Where I was younger
A time when I was funny and bold
And filled with hunger
Let me taste my dreams
With not a wasted moment
Teach me to fill this space
Even while I make a small dent
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
for E. M. A.
<•>
a conglomeration, a pastiche,
two Italian words affixed,
without hyphen, space, signaling
unity, a merger of a perfect sensory
morsel,
every language unicorn unique with
overlapping skin cells, entangling roots,
so do not be surprised when you,
who speaks not Italian, yet the brain
reverses the words in your eyesight
and is instantaneously understood
I love this letteral literal littoral
literacy
connective tissue that is a humans binding, and oneof my greatest lessenings, is that never
achieved real fluency in my cousined
romance languages, though oft inserted
in my scribbled poesy, for the emphasis
of satisfaction when saying
certain words in a related language carries
a style, a tune, that elevates its conceptually
so friend, multi lingual,
aware of my affection for
mixing, mining words of
multiplicity, makes, creates
a new word just for me:
which deserves a plain old perfect
WOW!
poetfriend
friendpoet
will never sound
as rich, inherently
musical, poetic
as saying:
Amicopoeta
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 8:27 AM UTC
time is fleeting
incandescent fire is shooting up into the sky
an orange to a blue, a conceptually profound blue
something deeper then space itself--
it has been here all along
waiting
for time
to find it
beneath everything fathomable
we are expansive
flying as smoke from a fire
we are productive
accelerating as industrialization did so
we are imperfect
crawling as I walk to a opulent eventuality
we are human
I fell into it--
floating into
an infinite odyssey
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
in this plastic dormancy i’ve happened to slip into deeply (yet subjectively), i feel i can finally acknowledge, conceptually, anyway, that your incessant rambling about wrong turns and orange juice with pulp actually raise a convincing argument. of course, i don’t think i would ever openly admit to this in any sense of vocal resonance, but if you could read the inside of my head, unfiltered, you may be pleasantly surprised by the vagabond mentality that makes me tick. i have fallen under the same catastrophic spell that has consumed your golden years with the attempted emulation of summer scents and sundress hearts filled out by tattooed wrists, and chests that beat in tune with the pulsing beams humming their way through the thickness of the east coast heat. i agonize over the fact every single person i know is sidestepping sunsets, cursing the ambiguity of their own beguiling history, as if their new found (last resort) sincerity could somehow still turn “this” all around. i’m still wondering what “this” even is. maybe we secretly covet the allure of being the monster rather than ending up grey and beautiful. maybe we aren’t wicks sparking and knees buckling. maybe this is it
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
You're too much in your own head
To love another human being
Except conceptually..
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 4:49 AM UTC
i fell in love with the Tao,
when i wandered the mountains of Korea
as a child.
i cannot name the Tao,
or hold it conceptually like religious deities
unspoken.
i love the Tao,
when my heart is aflame in the great reality of
now.
i am fully alive,
when i flow with the great
Tao.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 4:43 PM UTC
having heard, for example, be quiet your mother’s coma is trying to sleep. having folded like undiscovered pregnancies into verbatim. having had *** that is not the writhing one does, one by one, in dream. this crowing about voice. echo’s elusive scar. voice a sort of god taming. extreme sport of the conceptually stunned. comma. god the sentence fails to recover.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 4:29 PM UTC
Somewhere in the dawning of morning
In the moonlight far before noon
Lies the flickering stars of the evening
The sun shines on the moon.
A crippled man stands on the corner
Repeating his minded chant.
To no one is he a foreigner
Telling who he is, he both can and he can’t.
He rocks from side to side
Repeating the same wordy sighs.
I move closer trying to hide
There is only whiteness in his eyes.
I listen intently to what he has to say
For how can a ******* man without any eyes
Tell me any lies?
What he spoke of went something like this.
“In the beginning that which is was all there was and there was nothing else. Yet all that there was could not know itself because all that is was all there was and there was nothing else. So much so that all that is could not be. For in the absence of something else, all that is, is not. All that is knew it was all there was but this was not enough. For it could only know who it was conceptually and never know of its own touch. Yet for the experience of itself is what it yearned. For it wanted to know what it would be like if only it could know itself. But all that is could never know itself unless that which its not showed up. For in the absence of that which its not, that which is, is not. The one thing that all there is knew is that there was nothing else. So it could not nor would it ever know itself from a point outside itself because such a point did not exist. The is not wasn’t, just as the am not was. Still the all of everything wished to know itself. This pure, unseen, unheard, unobserved and therefore unknown energy chose to experience itself as it was, utterly magnificent. To do this it had to use a reference point from within. It thus divided itself into portions – each portion less than the whole and being now less than the whole it could look back on itself and see its magnificence. So in one glorious moment with all that was divided, itself becoming in one instant all that is this and all that which is that. For the first time, this and that could co-exist quite apart from each other. As did all that was neither. Thus three elements suddenly existed. That which is here and that which is there and that which is neither here nor there. But that which is neither here and neither there had to exist in order for that which is here and that which is there to exist. It is the nothing that holds the everything. It is the non-space which holds the space. It is in the everything that we find itself for it is he that divided itself into the here and the there and into the no where. Therefore itself is all there is as well as itself is all that is not. For in creating that which is here and that which is there, itself could experience itself from within and from without. From no-thing sprang everything which some choose to call “The Big Bang.” And with the possibility of here or there came the difference we know as time. For first it was here and then it was there and the period from here to there was measurable. As the parts of itself which were seen began to define themselves, so too did the parts unseen. Itself knew that for love to exist and to know itself as pure love its exact opposite had to exist as well. The great polarity of the great opposite of love is fear. But in the instant that fear existed, so too could love exist and be experienced. In order to know that all this is true – all you have to do is to follow your heart.”
I watched him as he stumbled along
With one leg turned oddly to one side.
I knew this man could do me no wrong
For he could not even see his crooked stride.
I stepped up beside him and took him by the arm,
“Sir, could I possibly give you a ride?”
“I guess that would do no harm.”
Soon we were side by side.
“Son,” he called me – turning those egg white eyes
To me, he asked – “Do I know you?”
“Yes sir, I’m just a part of all that is -
And a part of all that is not – just a part of your crew.”
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 3:11 PM UTC