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"nucleus" poems
I know not how many million stars there are. But I know there is only one earth. Maybe we have counted the protons of the atom as many it has in its nucleus counted the electrons on the run orbiting the nucleus. But the spinning circle is a zero yet to compute the unifying one! It's a pattern spans the universe. I know there are billions of us human out there on earth. But all I want is only one. Just to count on a permanent one!   The big earth is a bigger zero null. Standing on barefoot without the perpetual one. No glue, no roof nor a sign only on one pure rigid science!
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Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
One Pure Rigid Science
Civilized life is rigged, O land-dwellers! With landmines hidden in trails of Society's doctrine, 'Too often is it stepped on, Too often does it explode.' Blowing constitutions to smithereens, Where you then rummage within your nucleus to piece together your scattered jigsaw, Misplacing your natural elements, Overcasting your ability to side with beauteous aspects in simplicity— Of those ethereal-resplendent butterflies. Disillusioned on land thus is you (the complex you). Let go— Rise above your materialistic graves— Walk on air! My kindred wisps Walk on air!
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
Society-a-Landmine
I can't compute and become mute When you walk by My circuitry is fried Because your program is an encryption And your pulse is electromagnetic My car dies, so does my phone, so does my home I'm immobilized And demoralized By immoral ties To temporary generators They're validating veneraters Ultimately unsatisfying When you're still not buying I'm attracted to your charge Until there's a battery Yet you're the cure to your lure The EMT for your EMP Your negative charge casts a cloud around my nucleus But if you could be positive for a change We could meet in the middle And feel energy in our synergy But as soon as I feel electricity between us You shut me down With your EMP I can't get free
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Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
EMP
Know that my heart beats for you... Every crank of the wheel, turn of dials... Leading to my every breath and every sigh Wishing every moment would stay a while... Unaware of themselves hard at work, The cogs in my mind are constantly spinning... The gears in my head are lodged in place... Cogs and gears like clockwork, carelessly turning... Like a factory of sorts, They keep churning out ideas. Conceived notions that only had been Spawned by my mind's nucleus... Blinking lights signalling ways, And means to sweep you into the air, Then leave you lofted for second.... Without a trace of fear or care. At that moment, what I'd give to just admire... You floating against a backdrop of stars. An image frozen in infinite. An image free from blemishes or scars. Then when gravity claims you back, You'd fall the most graceful of falls... A fall in the slowest of motion. A fall led by my loving calls. Fear not darling for my arms would be there... To catch you and hold you close in a tight embrace. Cheek to cheek, chest to chest... You'd then know that, Cogs and gears spin only for you in this very same place...
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Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
Cogs and Gears
Single cells no organelles with membranes permeable respond with will to live Prokaryote so simple no nucleus  no lack nearing food evading harm Membrane assures survival   expanding one to two Membranes of the human process mystery When shall we admit our brains do not direct our intricate survival
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Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
Prokaryote
~ *Lost inside a labyrinth Tight-lipped tinkerer open-mouthed cynosure Pressing matters completing their circuit all things said, but not spoken Osculated locution, succinct phrasing released, but not heard The human element imparting seminal spark —together felt and touched A tingling syntax owing to its art becoming its nucleus* ~
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 4:10 PM UTC
A Kiss is a Conversation
ADP and ATP, DNA calamity. RNA provides ridicule and cruelty. Death note delivery. Blood laughs and screams as it pours from slit veins. It doesn't care about the souls its owner has stained! What have you feigned? What selflessness remains? None to be sure as parasitic reality you frame. What are we then? Surely not worth baiting. An existential lion's den. But does it matter if we're waiting? The most important question is "When?" We exist to cause our problems, to eliminate the heretic race. It's a race that know one wins when, They always have their problems to chase. So enlighten us with, Your sacred soul's bliss, Or grow up from this tantrum of toil and **** Science of religion, An oxymoron to say the least. It is one thing to take the message. Another to let your mind waste. Savor what you have to the nucleus of your soul. Know what makes you righteous. Know it well and full. Know what you live life for. We're abiotic to assume that we "know" things we won't search for.
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Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
Abiotic
What does one gain from completing the mundane tasks of daily living? Laundry Folding Cleaning Food prep Vacuum Dusting Windows Drain Choose a color scheme for your home A point of inspiration "The History of Interior Design" Choose your Lifestyle Color your Path What's the point? Cable television The Nuclear Family Entertaining The dodging of Lonelihood Wouldn't you rather be a dolphin? Dancing by day And sexing by night My furniture is coral My upholstery is seaweed Feng Shui by Poseidon's Design Pulp Fiction.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
Nucleus
I have a special interest in telling about my colonoscopy. The doc cheerful, secure in his specialty, colon cancer being the second leading cause of cancer death after lung tumors. They can snip the precancerous polyps right out of you during the test. At first the doc gave me the statistics but having paid 25 bucks for this       interview I decided to make him explain the science. He was most comfortable describing the physical architecture of adenomatous v. hyperplastic polyps but what about cell structure I said. He was vague about genes and       hormones, I could have been chatting with an Electrolux salesman. I wasn’t worried although my *** was burning. Everybody dies, everybody, even Whitman and Emerson, so I browse       models for dying— mine are middlebrow, saddlebow—John Wayne in The Shootist, Paul       Newman in Hombre—or hagiography Plath her head stuck in an oven, Hemingway who ate his shotgun. Anyway I was upbeat flirting with the nurse, a muse who has seen it all       before, acting tough, which isn’t actually an act you do your prep and say your prayers. I thought I’d be in and out **** as you probably already know the prep for this procedure is worthy of Gandhi. A day of fasting, clear fluids only, and constant voiding. You arrive at the hospital one spiritual chicken. I reflected it can’t hurt, lose a little weight, remember who you are without so much **** and flesh between you and the natural world. Snipping polyps is like taking electrons to a lower quantum energy level,       nearer the nucleus, with fasting and ****** abstinence. The art of total presence and abstinence, dependence on the Other for       future existence.
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May 15, 2024
May 15, 2024 at 7:09 AM UTC
Colonoscopy
I have a special interest in telling about my colonoscopy. The doc cheerful, secure in his specialty, colon cancer being the second leading cause of cancer death after lung tumors. They can snip the precancerous polyps right out of you during the test. At first the doc gave me the statistics but having paid 25 bucks for this       interview I decided to make him explain the science. He was most comfortable describing the physical architecture of adenomatous v. hyperplastic polyps but what about cell structure I said. He was vague about genes and       hormones, I could have been chatting with an Electrolux salesman. I wasn’t worried although my *** was burning. Everybody dies, everybody, even Whitman and Emerson, so I browse       models for dying— mine are middlebrow, saddlebow—John Wayne in The Shootist, Paul       Newman in Hombre—or hagiography Plath her head stuck in an oven, Hemingway who ate his shotgun. Anyway I was upbeat flirting with the nurse, a muse who has seen it all       before, acting tough, which isn’t actually an act you do your prep and say your prayers. I thought I’d be in and out **** as you probably already know the prep for this procedure is worthy of Gandhi. A day of fasting, clear fluids only, and constant voiding. You arrive at the hospital one spiritual chicken. I reflected it can’t hurt, lose a little weight, remember who you are without so much **** and flesh between you and the natural world. Snipping polyps is like taking electrons to a lower quantum energy level,       nearer the nucleus, with fasting and ****** abstinence. The art of total presence and abstinence, dependence on the Other for       future existence.
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32
Dagger buried in the depths of my heart, pain seeping out of every crease causing of an eruption of tears. Consistent manipulation into giving up my hopes, A conning of my inner treasure. Mend the broken pieces of my emotions, the scattering of my feelings, shredded apart because of a stolen hope. A borrowed courage to believe that I could be loved. The right to know that a heart was destined to belong with mines. The privilege to smile without reason. Pinpointing the flaws of my love, questioning where does it become “too much”? Torn apart from the inside, a decaying courage to try, denying myself of the experience to fall, pain accumulating with every ignored cry, every plead pushed to the side. A vacant space now occupies the nucleus of my emotions. They withered away with every disappointment and tear. So everything within me dies, (Oh, how bitter the feeling) in hopes of a rebirth.
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Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC
Rebirth
I was a zygote swimming in a pool of natural Energy, just right for the formation of life. We were all just so, had there been chemistry? Had there even been a magical mystery to this Formation of the being, their biological clocks Ticking against the backdrop of evolutionary Zion Time, the want of stepping outside oneself, knowing? This is that zygote, it's chemistry a part of all things, All creations of this world, the same as this solar system, Comprised of all of the natural energy that was formed So many billions of years ago, just like a nucleus presence, A fire...sparked by other star kindling, a mystery indeed... Without any solid chemical biology of science. In the human body? Oxygen, Hydrogen, Carbon, Nitrogen, Calcium Phosphorous, and in the sun? Hydrogen, Nitrogen, Yes even Oxygen, as well as Carbon. I think you see that There is a valid connection.
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Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 2:40 PM UTC
Mystery of Life-Enlightenment II
If our multiverse revolves around Our universe revolves around Our galaxy revolves around Our solar system revolves around Our sun. Which is orbited by the Earth (Which is orbited in turn by the moon and our space junk) Which is composed of people and continental plates and oceanic plates, all drifting around and bumping into one another Which are composed of molecules Which are composed of elements Which are composed of and are atoms Which are composed of protons and neutrons in the nucleus Which is orbited by spinning electrons that we can't even see, Who is to say we are not an atom to some greater being?
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Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
revolutions orbits and compositions
Mystique - a framework of doctrines, ideas, beliefs, or the like, constructed around a person or object, endowing the person or object with enhanced value or profound meaning: "the mystique of Poe." - an aura of mystery or mystical power surrounding a particular occupation or pursuit: "the mystique of nuclear science." the mystique of Poe, the mystique of nuclear science, don't you see the irony extraordinaire, the perfect intersection of human and science? atoms of a poet. what, who better to radiate the profound complex meaning of mystique smile while commencing the delving, inhaling, comprehending, subsuming the aura of human cells odors of the atomizer flavors mellifluous chain reacting the set theory of all my senses, at the ultimate overlapping of the primordial intersection of the nucleus. I am the living scientific proof, the written poem, the realization of mystique, the enhanced value of the human you.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
Mystique
She knew, right afterward. Amazing. She knew. I took her word for it. Oo-Oo-Oocyte! The largest, roundest cell Females have. It is Visible to the eye Clothed or nakey. With the largest surface Volume in relation to Her cell-fluid-gorged surface. One is produced ea/month. One? Yowza. Me? Millions of the little buggers. Millions! Yeah! THAT’s The ticket! And tiny those little tickets are. Hardly more than a nucleus with That powerhouse of the cell, The Mitochondrial outboard motor, Propelling the tail. The smallest and straightest Human cell (Cool tail, though) The juxtaposition is kind Of amazing. Large vs. small. Roundest vs. straightest. Tail-propelled nucleus Vs. Moon-shaped cytoplasm. The opposite, embryologically- Speaking. And she was positive, POSITIVE We’d conceived. Roughly 9 months later, I was there. Physically. The rest of me was Possibly sunning in Togo. Kind of freaked me out, The birthing process, The first time. My son. My baby boy. Our child. 5/28/91. I’m more proud and more Astonished at the man My little baby has grown into With each passing day. Golden child, beginning Life with blonde hair, Almost white, darkening As he grew into the French- Indian DNA of his Mom’s side of the family. He is so much like His Mother, for which I’m very happy, Because his Mother Is simply amazing And worthy of an entire Slew of poems just To describe her. And I’ve another Golden child Gold blessing vein running True and deep, different Than his older brother Of seven years, Yet similar, opposite in Some ways, having grown strong As the little plaything for His older brother’s friends, Making him very tough, Strong as a team of oxen, A work ethic he inherited From Dad, Mom, Brother Yet fitting together as Loving siblings can When they have God At the center of their lives. Thank You, God, for My two sons. I’m protective, but I know They do not belong to me. They are Your blessings To my wife and me. They are Your blessings To this world, set in motion, Wound up to take what they see And make it better, and To prevent it from getting worse. They will do Your work. We were the biological Vessels that delivered Them from Your world Before To this world, Now.
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Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 5:12 PM UTC
The Blessings Children Are
She knew, right afterward. Amazing. She knew. I took her word for it. Oo-Oo-Oocyte! The largest, roundest cell Females have. It is Visible to the eye Clothed or nakey. With the largest surface Volume in relation to Her cell-fluid-gorged surface. One is produced ea/month. One? Yowza. Me? Millions of the little buggers. Millions! Yeah! THAT’s The ticket! And tiny those little tickets are. Hardly more than a nucleus with That powerhouse of the cell, The Mitochondrial outboard motor, Propelling the tail. The smallest and straightest Human cell (Cool tail, though) The juxtaposition is kind Of amazing. Large vs. small. Roundest vs. straightest. Tail-propelled nucleus Vs. Moon-shaped cytoplasm. The opposite, embryologically- Speaking. And she was positive, POSITIVE We’d conceived. Roughly 9 months later, I was there. Physically. The rest of me was Possibly sunning in Togo. Kind of freaked me out, The birthing process, The first time. My son. My baby boy. Our child. 5/28/91. I’m more proud and more Astonished at the man My little baby has grown into With each passing day. Golden child, beginning Life with blonde hair, Almost white, darkening As he grew into the French- Indian DNA of his Mom’s side of the family. He is so much like His Mother, for which I’m very happy, Because his Mother Is simply amazing And worthy of an entire Slew of poems just To describe her. And I’ve another Golden child Gold blessing vein running True and deep, different Than his older brother Of seven years, Yet similar, opposite in Some ways, having grown strong As the little plaything for His older brother’s friends, Making him very tough, Strong as a team of oxen, A work ethic he inherited From Dad, Mom, Brother Yet fitting together as Loving siblings can When they have God At the center of their lives. Thank You, God, for My two sons. I’m protective, but I know They do not belong to me. They are Your blessings To my wife and me. They are Your blessings To this world, set in motion, Wound up to take what they see And make it better, and To prevent it from getting worse. They will do Your work. We were the biological Vessels that delivered Them from Your world Before To this world, Now.
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103
There was a universe. In this universe...was a galaxy In this galaxy...was a planet On this planet...was a man In this man...was a heart In this heart...was a cell In this cell...was a nucleus In this nucleus...was a proton In this proton...was a quark In this quark...was a gluon In this gluon...was.... Where was I going with this? Umm.... You're awesome.
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Jan 23, 2012
Jan 23, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
Back to Basics
Sun and snow Rain, then the rainbow's glow Melt, and a new awakening So eager to restart the agony. Days are not life Just the wrapper Encapsulating All our strife. Dreams are not hopes Hopes are not dreams We scurry madcap trails Chasing all these things. Clarity is not inspiration Inspiration is not clarity We dream so fiercely We awaken the beasts. We did the math And found ways to cheat We thought it through And found ways to cheat. Whether you lead or follow In the same old hollow The cheating ways Spin us all around the circle. No ejecta No new-found paths Spinning hugging misery The nucleus of humanity.
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Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
Nucleus of Humanity
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
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Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Heliophilia
We watched the sun fall down and scrape its knee again, across the horizon. Effusing amaranth, carmine, and cochineal across polluted vista. It felt petty to issue guttural laughs, or engage the myofacial crescents beneath its visual lament as the Earth turned its back again. We watched the sun rise, bruised, tender and shy this morning. Its muddled contusion obviated by the gauze of fog. A mottled neophyte - Luminescent crepuscular rays defied dregs of interstellar debris and cloud. Aching to kiss your skin - In stellar cloud nursery, it eschewed the torque of orbit and gravity - eras before verity of your essence. Humbly settling concentrically about oblate sphere, and gaseous tome. Latterly - It altered the atmospheric pressure on the other side of the planet a week antecedently, as you clung to your dream lattice, and Earth innately turned oblate nucleus. Its intent – A veneration of you. It bade the atmosphere convey a breeze echoing about your dermis, as it gilded your frame laconically, betwixt shaded steps beneath cloud and arbor. The sun yelled at me at its pinnacle today, Pallid bone – molten - miasma of rage Its core missive garnered inertia – coronal plasma warping ellipsoid factions in inflections of elusive filigree Pirouetting spicules spattered smelted torrents in the dismal anchorite Atomic schism – silent but felt It stoked humidity under shadowed niche - casual vaporous smears evinced no clemency. Flesh torqued, and seized beneath itself, briny globules shed from puckered pore. Culminations of sensitive fluid sacs scorched into the shallows of my chassis. Insignia knit in cellular shrapnel The sun ignored me today – or perhaps, it was I it. Enigmatic tenacious resolution – an echo of its gravitational collapse Inverse thermonuclear fusion It is not fear in a relationship that keeps you apart, it is neglect of the infinitesimal.
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27
Barring a robin nothing sacred at the vacant church - fr
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Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
"Nucleus"
I would like to imagine that you and I are each a nucleus And somewhere else, miles away The rest of us is spinning On some course with unimaginable science and math Involved And that somewhere, miles from both of us Those flying terrifying parts found each other And held hands And together we made something more complex That involved diagrams with little lines and letters I would again like to imagine That I am sitting in my center Miles from that chaos And that I can’t feel the rest of me, spinning And complex That I can’t feel that part of you that is attached to me And I can’t feel when that bond breaks And again we are something less then we used to be Yes, I would like to imagine that.
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Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
A Metaphor About Atoms
Red and raw like my brain, unable to shut down. Thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of dueling emotions. Wanting to stay up, Knowing I should want to come down and stay that way.
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
Up, The Better State
A fire ignites Inside my very ******* self Pain unjulates From each nucleus Of every single living cell Out through my tattered bones, To my skin That burns to the touch My sinews Feel severed The pressure from each step Shoots electricity up through my spine The release of each step Throbs with each heartbeat I can feel my blood Rush through my veins And even that Steals my breath My tread Breaks tempo With a limp I drag my throbbing feet Weighted by exhaustion And hours of constant Vibrating hurt The doctors say it's in the neurons Of my brain. They misinterpret Touch as pain So I live in constant Chaos Wondering if there will ever be a day Where my cells will silence And I will find some relief
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May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
Fibromyalgia
there's a fire blooming lotus burning deep-seated feather brush between this flesh and that flesh a thin line of ink drawn up my spine that splatters and does not extinguish coats the ribs with a sweet kind of coolant fading to blue, red dipping into my stomach to settle there and turn circles, rolling straight up my neck into a sigh
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Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
Nucleus Accumbens
I am made of ancient cosmic dust. Atomic nucleus and particles. By the solar winds, I have been ****** to be a part so astrological. Atomic nucleus and particles, moving along near the speed of light. To be a part so astrological, my mass and numbers are not finite. Moving along near the speed of light, gathered together by gravity fields. My mass and numbers are not finite. Look up at night, a star filled sky I yield. Gathered together by gravity fields, forever in mans mind, a mystery. Look up at night, a star filled sky I yield, forever to a mans soul, a fantasy. Forever in mans mind a mystery, by the solar winds, I have been ****** Forever to a mans soul, a fantasy, I am made of ancient cosmic dust.
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Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 2:11 PM UTC
I Am Cosmic Dust
Reaching Inside to Center Mind and further still past Grey Matter past axon and dendrite through the synapse Once more unto the breach and further still into cell into nucleus into gene into acid amino and further still into particle carbon past electron past proton into neutron and further still to Reach The Void and reside within and wait, still Being within Nothing as the World Serpent tail-in-mouth consumes itself Wait and Hold Still Wait and Hold Still Now gently Returning Up and Out tugging softly at The Void with wish whisper touch softer than Light pulling bringing Nothing Up and Out into Everything into Center Mind Up and Out leaving neutron past proton and electron leaving carbon Up and Out pulling No-thing Up and Out leaving gene, leaving nucleus, leaving cell Up and Out bringing The Void Up and Out through synapse past dendrite and axon through Matters Grey Up and Out and Into Center of Mind the Hole in Your Self the Whole within the Holy You Now Wait and Hold Still
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Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
Meditation #1
Heaven is the nucleus of universe Love is the nucleus of life
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 10:07 AM UTC
Nucleus