Chess as explained, personalities defended, moving the pieces of time across the possibilities at the Euclidian construct, the many unfinished endings with the specific archetypes, and now your move.
There is a mirror facing a door; you are a thinking species, tales of our existence, the concept is quite broadly approached by experience, and foundry of forming language within the extreme.
The author realizes the irony of writing thoughts comparatively or inconsequential to other writers of sarcasm, introspective and regardless, but those are many finished timelines.
The creative process very little for long daydreams, of course writing along, when thinking out loud, then discussion, one thought becomes many voices, indistinct chatter of oddly specific hangovers and common epiphanies, had by all.
Healing thru exploration of instinct if not knowledge, remembering the future, forgetting the past, living in the construction, perception, and reaction, one thought becomes many archetypes, the inner voice untamed by providence, too many doubts for inaction, too many inactions worth added value.
/interrupted in a thought, as all thoughts are
Comforting vices the tragic echoes of insanity thrown from one world the next these spiraling skies with forgotten stars radiant terrible sound the memories of deaths where gods punished this regret of painless death a heartbeat without soul, just one of those paths.
Receding to familiar words, social graces, mood of the many, a message we learn for its safety, the society for bonds, the language of learning, don't discount the scripture of your duties.
I hate to write my thoughts after being interrupted, they are just words, but it seems contrived, we are part of the journey of our species.
An idea is believed then shared, a group are friends and then shared, a pain is had then screamed - for this truly a divide, for some pains are irrelevant to men and women differently, yet for our work we are one, rewarded for our efforts, empowered by our actions.
The past present and future are powerful elements of a story, and when combined then are intelligence of the rule of threes, voice and law and soul.
With any certainty must your inaction become action, without it, you are lost in a dream of a game without rules and soon without skill.
The wave is the water that fills the glass, to the edge of the confines, as if their magic would shaped the world, seeing the next revolution to the crest.
I imagine visitors will make arrival, promising them I've made bad choices, leading just one revolution, it's good you've had your royalty and brought a castle to shade the scorched lands.
In darkness light is seen from the point of creation, the atoms of dust each universes scattered to blinding light at the dawn of time, circumstances to make witness a journey, many experiences to escape the madness if it comes to conflict with whatever.
Some thoughts take moments, some make movements, beware, they are the purchase of lost memories.
