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"dimensionality" poems
*stepping back into the west chills reverberate up and down my spine chiseling open obsolescent padlocks dangling with dust on ancient treasure chests pallid colors in the attic release a blossoming familiarity faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper granting me access to roads where no map is needed as i peruse the streets my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity caressing each detail i transform to fluid and fuse with the past through fresh strokes of watercolored memories recollections flash before my eyes revealing antiquated stories though thought forgotten an etched history endeavors to define me renewing itself as i turn each corner i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others through synchronicity realization hits that I am all of it yet none of it at the same time familiar faces paint meaning onto me no longer do they know me yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear and coat me with connotations i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine i morph into their canvas temporarily then break free in multi-dimensionality they don't hear me with a new listening no longer invested in their projections once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus an auspicious mist lies around the edges of my former life it is as if i never left yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me a maturation commingles with my former self flushing out on my skin tethering newfound emotions a gentle gratitude for home territory nestles softly inward i listen to the clicks of my scuffed cowboy boots on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks the echoes layering multiple impressions glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges interfacing the evergreens hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents dance in open wounds dazzling homesickness cured a wholeness returned as winter's crystal dawn blooms i realize the depth of my growth for in leaving here and returning i cherish the west my home ©2016 janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 3:50 AM UTC
returning west
*stepping back into the west chills reverberate up and down my spine chiseling open obsolescent padlocks dangling with dust on ancient treasure chests pallid colors in the attic release a blossoming familiarity faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper granting me access to roads where no map is needed as i peruse the streets my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity caressing each detail i transform to fluid and fuse with the past through fresh strokes of watercolored memories recollections flash before my eyes revealing antiquated stories though thought forgotten an etched history endeavors to define me renewing itself as i turn each corner i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others through synchronicity realization hits that I am all of it yet none of it at the same time familiar faces paint meaning onto me no longer do they know me yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear and coat me with connotations i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine i morph into their canvas temporarily then break free in multi-dimensionality they don't hear me with a new listening no longer invested in their projections once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus an auspicious mist lies around the edges of my former life it is as if i never left yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me a maturation commingles with my former self flushing out on my skin tethering newfound emotions a gentle gratitude for home territory nestles softly inward i listen to the clicks of my scuffed cowboy boots on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks the echoes layering multiple impressions glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges interfacing the evergreens hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents dance in open wounds dazzling homesickness cured a wholeness returned as winter's crystal dawn blooms i realize the depth of my growth for in leaving here and returning i cherish the west my home ©2016 janetaylor
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The primal cause, A distinguishable passion. Irrevocable truth unabided by Beliefs expressed in dimensionality. The fire with me burns, It churns and rises. Power self-contained Is glory in it's own fate. I enter the lair of truth And seek no counsel. Therefore I revel, Proceeding with conviction Expressing imagination My minds eye proclamation.
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Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
Primal Causation
We look into the damp, dark recesses of our mind to look for finite definition for our actions and expressions. We are looking for a straight line in a work comprised of curved loops. How we don't acknowledge the curved loops' flexibility to everything. We can only see shapes through our narrow minds. Not the abstract dimensionality. The straightening of a curved loop is the destruction of true art. Moving endlessly with infinite pertinence. That no one yet everyone understands.
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Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 12:27 PM UTC
The Meaning of my Poetry
I felt the three-dimensionality of space Independently From time And the pull between all things As the earth goddess spoke to me In the basement of a girl I used to love I sat alone just feeling And imagining complex thought Not immune from reality But simply Independent Of all that's real and painful and unbearably true Three dimensions, Bound inseparably to time, Closing in
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Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
In Dependency
And when I opened my eyes, the whole of the night sky was white-washed—even one hundred and five miles wasn’t enough to keep the lights of metropolitan Columbus from blocking out the stars. In my drunkenness, there lying by the lakeside, I perceived the three-dimensionality of space, and at first, I was awestruck by that vision, but then one of the stars started shooting, as the astronomers had predicted, and with my mouth still wide open, I realized that the shooting star was just a moth, and not the dust of a comet. The three-dimensional vision I’d perceived an illusion, the picture dissolved, and there I was again basking in the two-dimensional darkness that even one hundred and five miles couldn’t make black.
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May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
Whitewashed Meteors
*they come too easy, they come too cheap, each sparkle on my city's sidewalks, each glistening preserved, retrieved, lifted to my ***** wallet tucked~away, treasure for safekeeping, slow pleasured contemplation could not fail to find them, for all standout in four dimensionality, some are long, some are deep, some are wide, yet all possess speaking souls, to leave unattended, unheard, an act of criminality years needed for the making, moments only for the transcribing, each a black ruby, or a street sand pearl, none more valuable than another, each unique, each precious, differently some escape, shed their earthbound chains, float atmospherically for keen eyes to grasp, need a single finger to twirl, instill within, they come too easy, come too cheap, yet each poem written, more costly than the next*
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Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
come too easy, come too cheap...
How many complete pathways of choices are there? OR How many choices are left to achieve completion [!] Either offers an accurate divisor into the number of possibilities "n" roughly at whatever is the above determined level which is a power called "m". n^m, roughly...divided by either the # of pathways or the choices that are left [!] to completion. Either divisor will serve by ridding us of duplicate iterations of over-multiplied possibilities inside of roughly n^m. Put another way, simple estimations of "n" at the indicated power level do not recognize that 1) more than one path arrives to a conclusion; Nor do simple estimations at indicated power levels recognize that 2) apparent particulars from which to work toward completion are actually not different particulars--half of them are double counted at the level of being two choices from complete due to the dimensionality of the whole becoming complete. So the impact of having a divisor is strongest either when: 1) working toward completion from levels that already include almost all dimensions of particulars or else 2) whenever operating at low levels of power which have only a few pathways. Estimations of possibilities are easily too high if not considering the adjustments for cases 1) and 2). These are for occasions of having more than one possibility. However: The number of complete outcomes that are reachable, divided by all choosable pathways = n/n = 1 . Or else, any one outcome chosen from its penultimate particulars through to completeness = 1/1 = 1 . Thus, Singular possibility is by definition, complete, whole, created, ultimate, and embraced in all of its dimensions. It is both one easily won and/or one, fully, dimensionally itself. (Whatever is not and is not divided, or, is nothing left unchosen = truly naught and something not found = 0.) Sources: Closed dimensional choice paths (the geometry of the powers depicted) and Pascal's Triangle
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Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 5:50 AM UTC
Ha! Combinatoric Perceptions of Power
How many complete pathways of choices are there? OR How many choices are left to achieve completion [!] Either offers an accurate divisor into the number of possibilities "n" roughly at whatever is the above determined level which is a power called "m". n^m, roughly...divided by either the # of pathways or the choices that are left [!] to completion. Either divisor will serve by ridding us of duplicate iterations of over-multiplied possibilities inside of roughly n^m. Put another way, simple estimations of "n" at the indicated power level do not recognize that 1) more than one path arrives to a conclusion; Nor do simple estimations at indicated power levels recognize that 2) apparent particulars from which to work toward completion are actually not different particulars--half of them are double counted at the level of being two choices from complete due to the dimensionality of the whole becoming complete. So the impact of having a divisor is strongest either when: 1) working toward completion from levels that already include almost all dimensions of particulars or else 2) whenever operating at low levels of power which have only a few pathways. Estimations of possibilities are easily too high if not considering the adjustments for cases 1) and 2). These are for occasions of having more than one possibility. However: The number of complete outcomes that are reachable, divided by all choosable pathways = n/n = 1 . Or else, any one outcome chosen from its penultimate particulars through to completeness = 1/1 = 1 . Thus, Singular possibility is by definition, complete, whole, created, ultimate, and embraced in all of its dimensions. It is both one easily won and/or one, fully, dimensionally itself. (Whatever is not and is not divided, or, is nothing left unchosen = truly naught and something not found = 0.) Sources: Closed dimensional choice paths (the geometry of the powers depicted) and Pascal's Triangle
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4/19/2015 dedicated to the girl I used to be crushed right next to the broken glass. "*I don't write nearly as much poetry as I used to,*" I tell her in the orange light of the German café this time it is shining in through. "*Like you used to before you were sedated?*" No. I suppose it must be the weather. I remember dancing to morrissey in my darkened room at 3:43 am on a January tuesday, it was a good lay, good lay,good lay Like some sort of charicature of teenage one dimensionality I remember picking up a half empty Heineken at a dorm room right before winter finals like some sort of charcature of teenage pretentiousness and putting my tights on, "my mom thinks I'm shopping, cute, right?" Old floor crushing my shins minute before like some sort of charcature of teenage indulgences "Don't you sort of miss the cold?" I ask, picking at the cake and the girl I used to be this time last year infinitely more innocent weeps at confrontation
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
The pebbles on the highway
I left a city of comfortable people To experience God away from your steeple. God is as vast as the clear, South Dakota sky, Bigger than the sins of nonbelievers and their lies-- Petty problems tearing everyone apart. He is greater than misquoted scripture, Emotional phrases by judgmental hypocrites. Yes, hallelujah to the Christ! Go ahead and sing Kumbaya with all you've got. You're trying to bring yourself closer to a God Who is all around you. Please stop to listen to yourself and your crew, The truth is that you're limiting Him. He's more than your facade and your two-dimensionality. I'd rather believe in a God of mystery-- A God of gray. I'm glad to have left your City of Black and White. My God isn't boring, He's infinite.
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Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
City of Black and White
My life has been the slow motion opening of an eyelid. Time rewinded in the snapping of an aperture. Every time the body dies, the mind returns to singularity. Center. The source from which a new universe shall sprout. From a fiery phantasm to the spreading of lips, this beginning is the same on all levels. Time is an illusion. Space does not exist. Pseudo-space: The distance between two independent entities. Space corrected: The overlapping of all dimensionality. Relative Time: God viewed from every angle in a consecutive order consistently into infinity. Time Objective: Splitting the atom. One becomes ten thousand. And each one of ten thousand thousands. To the river, the ocean is flowing. I have witnessed the birth of stars.
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Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
On Memories
Searching for unconditionality Core burning for such totality But realising in actuality When meshed with practicality The idea smacks vapid and rapidly Melts in its own reality Love without condition’s a formality Defined by its own commonality No substance is found in normality No guarantee of magnanimity Instead I’ll forego the vanity And try that inhospitality Found next to the notion of real sensuality And accept the inescapable brutality Of love’s dimensionality Mortality
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
Modality
I'm yet done finding Me The search wades through Eternity Luckily,  I've got your number Exact coordinates and geometry Is it the symmetry or dimensionality that makes the majik seem just right? In our little corner, the whirling dervish dance makes us 4th, including the Sun. If we claim a Solar System, why not include the Sun, after all our daze have come. From what we collectively perceive, the four dimensions let it be. Wrapping up a poignant point~pyramid mythology. This subject being deep and vast, I'd prefer to leave it where it's at. Doesn't mean I won't come back...remember,  I've got your number.
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
11:11 ~Calling Card
Deep inside me, yet where I not know, Is the truest of all, the heaviest sorrow. I know not why, I know how, A great thing in me, at right now. Wishing my eyes shut on this dimensionality With worries of nothing, just in the reality When I return, along with my worries They'll be lessened, along with my furies.
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Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:32 AM UTC
Repose
.... Heart, calmed for time being by Mind and hidden into box of rest and dimensionality of Earth. It has hidden it's fire of Love, closed by lock of rationality and smartness of body. The less fire burns in Heart, the less it wants to look out into window and spectate life. But all of sudden it sees familiar shape, or there was a glimpse of flower, same flower which someone gave to you, familiar sounds of favorite melody, which you were listening, when you were in Love, or... And roused Heart, and forget all those, what Mind been teaching in numberless repetitions and orders. That Mind, that build the wall from pain and suffering, to divide Heart, to divide dreams, to divide Love. It has build tall fence from pain, and forbid to look into sky full of stars, and listen to SKY. But the spark, fleshed by memory of Love, broke chains of Mind, and burned them down in a moment. Pierced straight into heart, awakening feelings and desires. And now, fading fire of Love in it erupted with new strength and brightness, taking all wishes and dreams along to the Sky. Awaken heart from sleep, lulled by Mind. It's mighty bright fire got ignited again, which burned down all reasons and proofs. Burned down in a moment, all rational paths, and all calculated by Mind route, of Life path, which was build by pragmatic Mind. It has forgotten of promised convenience and comfort of preplanned routs, forgot and doesn't want to recall, Earthly life comforts. It took off to Sky, illuminating by it's fire World around, and stars began to illuminate the Heart and fill up with Hope. It doesn't want to ride in a train of life, convenient and comfortable, with certain beginning and end. It wishes to be free, in it's Love and live, to burn, to wish, to love. And freely fly in vast space of life It filled up with fire, warmth, Love. Doesn't want quietly die in a train of life, where there is no Love fire, and desire to Live. It doesn't want to choke without Love, as a spectator looking into window of life without it. It wishes to stand still, suffer, take off with Happiness, and land down with Sadness. It wishes to fill with tears of Love, but love in a way to enjoy these Sadness, these Life, these deepness of it's Love. To raise up to Sky, high to the stars, where stars will be filled by it's Sadness. Which will cause Shooting Stars illumination of vast space of Sky. For it, important, the process, filled with deepness, with sensitive bliss, fulfilling elevation. Cause for it, for alive Heart, this is Life, way, path and meaning, that place, where it heads, entangled to it Soul, filled with desire that Heart. It wants to be free, dream, and fly and LIVE! ....
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Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
#1.1
.... Heart, calmed for time being by Mind and hidden into box of rest and dimensionality of Earth. It has hidden it's fire of Love, closed by lock of rationality and smartness of body. The less fire burns in Heart, the less it wants to look out into window and spectate life. But all of sudden it sees familiar shape, or there was a glimpse of flower, same flower which someone gave to you, familiar sounds of favorite melody, which you were listening, when you were in Love, or... And roused Heart, and forget all those, what Mind been teaching in numberless repetitions and orders. That Mind, that build the wall from pain and suffering, to divide Heart, to divide dreams, to divide Love. It has build tall fence from pain, and forbid to look into sky full of stars, and listen to SKY. But the spark, fleshed by memory of Love, broke chains of Mind, and burned them down in a moment. Pierced straight into heart, awakening feelings and desires. And now, fading fire of Love in it erupted with new strength and brightness, taking all wishes and dreams along to the Sky. Awaken heart from sleep, lulled by Mind. It's mighty bright fire got ignited again, which burned down all reasons and proofs. Burned down in a moment, all rational paths, and all calculated by Mind route, of Life path, which was build by pragmatic Mind. It has forgotten of promised convenience and comfort of preplanned routs, forgot and doesn't want to recall, Earthly life comforts. It took off to Sky, illuminating by it's fire World around, and stars began to illuminate the Heart and fill up with Hope. It doesn't want to ride in a train of life, convenient and comfortable, with certain beginning and end. It wishes to be free, in it's Love and live, to burn, to wish, to love. And freely fly in vast space of life It filled up with fire, warmth, Love. Doesn't want quietly die in a train of life, where there is no Love fire, and desire to Live. It doesn't want to choke without Love, as a spectator looking into window of life without it. It wishes to stand still, suffer, take off with Happiness, and land down with Sadness. It wishes to fill with tears of Love, but love in a way to enjoy these Sadness, these Life, these deepness of it's Love. To raise up to Sky, high to the stars, where stars will be filled by it's Sadness. Which will cause Shooting Stars illumination of vast space of Sky. For it, important, the process, filled with deepness, with sensitive bliss, fulfilling elevation. Cause for it, for alive Heart, this is Life, way, path and meaning, that place, where it heads, entangled to it Soul, filled with desire that Heart. It wants to be free, dream, and fly and LIVE! ....
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bell rhymes with hell from where Gay Chaps return and every time a bell chimes another back ground Daemon gets her wings how do I reduce the dimensionality of our Minds, the minor Mirror of our Gods? as wax melt round a burning Blackhole, effluvium seeds up while we observe only Brownian specks ejected orthogonally back down our Spacetime curve
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May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 7:17 PM UTC
Marine Spacetime
sometimes looking at words on a page or a screen there's some mysterious interplay between the two-dimensionality of words on a flat plane and the three-dimensionality underlying it all visually deceiving as if the space behind the words is both an infinite abyss an undetectable, immeasurable void    and a flat formless surface it's both    and it's neither and somehow typing on a flat-(ish) keyboard but pushing buttons down into a third dimension makes the words appearing on the screen seem almost 3D themselves in a connected sort of way plunging into the white void of the blank screen the keystrokes feel deeper than i think they really are especially when i stare at the screen and let the fingers fly what sort of illusion is this?! or are the words actually the missing link that let us peek to the hidden dimensions we desperately seek? sometimes looking at words on a page or a screen i can't help but wonder these things
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Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:06 PM UTC
infinitely deep flatness
Unknown There's still no answer No sense of continuity Just streaming defeat and acceptance Where the void yells and I scream back To find I've been having arguments with emptiness So back to front projected on a silver screen With my eyes behind blinded by the light That whites out what I'm supposed to see The room is white with shadows grey As I compress out of any dimensionality Neither sticks nor bones Skin like leaves strewn by the wind I own no body but a mind unknown There's noise and static And the fear I feel is my own Everything attracting to a singular point Stretching out into a vortex that tunnels Calling out my name so it can carry my feet I'm afraid of the coming singularity Knowing the floor will be cold So I'll breathe out your name And say a prayer even if I don't believe Through cold I'll walk To let the fraying arms gather me And tether me to the rest of oblivion Where forsaken lay The faded parts of a body that I used to know
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
Sleeper
Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly died? I was young, at that age where all my memories blend into one entity, never knowing where one memory ends and another begins. I was in the living room watching cartoons, eating Maltesers. I inhaled one by accident and it stuck in my throat. A perfect time-pausing fear overcame me and I sat frozen in place. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I just sat there, terrified to move. I don’t know how long I sat there for before running into the hallway, thirty seconds maybe, up to a minute, but it felt like a lifetime. My mum was in the kitchen with her back to me. I couldn’t scream so I just stood there, waving my arms. She never turned around. So I stamped my feet, jumped up and down, then she turned, assuming I was messing about and trying to annoy her. I think she was about to shout at me but she saw the blue of my lips and ran over, turned me around and started trying to dislodge the sweet. Then the fear left me, replaced instead by this creeping darkness coming in from the corners of my vision. To this day I still can’t quite describe it adequately, but I will try. The darkness had a form, not like a shadow, but 3-dimensionality. It came from behind my then started to cover the carpet beneath my feet then creep up the walls and down the hallway. I was not afraid of it. It was so warm, so inviting, like silk wrapped around your shoulders, the velvety hug of a soulmate after you’ve suffered a devastating loss. The darkness drew me in when I had no fight left in me. I was ready. The Malteser flew out of my mouth and bounced down the hallway. The darkness fled immediately, the fear rushing back in and I ran to the toilet and threw up, crying like I’d lost everything. I’ve heard people say that depression feels like you’ve lost someone, then realising it is yourself. That feels about right, I think. I still think of that darkness now and again, when the nights are cold and I’m by myself. I think of all the people terrified of dying, but they don’t know. You are embraced by the universe, as if time itself will mourn your passing. It feels good.
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Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:30 PM UTC
Life
Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly died? I was young, at that age where all my memories blend into one entity, never knowing where one memory ends and another begins. I was in the living room watching cartoons, eating Maltesers. I inhaled one by accident and it stuck in my throat. A perfect time-pausing fear overcame me and I sat frozen in place. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I just sat there, terrified to move. I don’t know how long I sat there for before running into the hallway, thirty seconds maybe, up to a minute, but it felt like a lifetime. My mum was in the kitchen with her back to me. I couldn’t scream so I just stood there, waving my arms. She never turned around. So I stamped my feet, jumped up and down, then she turned, assuming I was messing about and trying to annoy her. I think she was about to shout at me but she saw the blue of my lips and ran over, turned me around and started trying to dislodge the sweet. Then the fear left me, replaced instead by this creeping darkness coming in from the corners of my vision. To this day I still can’t quite describe it adequately, but I will try. The darkness had a form, not like a shadow, but 3-dimensionality. It came from behind my then started to cover the carpet beneath my feet then creep up the walls and down the hallway. I was not afraid of it. It was so warm, so inviting, like silk wrapped around your shoulders, the velvety hug of a soulmate after you’ve suffered a devastating loss. The darkness drew me in when I had no fight left in me. I was ready. The Malteser flew out of my mouth and bounced down the hallway. The darkness fled immediately, the fear rushing back in and I ran to the toilet and threw up, crying like I’d lost everything. I’ve heard people say that depression feels like you’ve lost someone, then realising it is yourself. That feels about right, I think. I still think of that darkness now and again, when the nights are cold and I’m by myself. I think of all the people terrified of dying, but they don’t know. You are embraced by the universe, as if time itself will mourn your passing. It feels good.
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