Novis Initiis

i close my eyes to see the back of stars, the stars i see everywhere, arguing, not that it's new light, and behind the stars i see the distance, i peeked to see if i can spellbind, that these are my thoughts, no one is sure, to me there they are intrinsic, and temperamental, often not my own, never full to grow out like flowers and fires, but there is the other thing that i'm stalling again, oh great is might, i sense where the keys are and i type, or i do, stranger than fiction, and other things, continuity is so remains the principle theme, has the light finished before it shines on travelled shores, does the light travel to empty planets or does it just pass by them with ease, as choice, as reprimand, as trivial detrour, does it chase around the world after a tail, it becomes many past connection withy the target, but itself to parts, we can record these events, creating new data as more information, and there is the light used to transmit the signals are just pulses of electricity, on, and off, we record, no wait, there are two choices this thought, behind the flashlight, or guessingh who holds the flashlight, it because it seems, okay, scores of people recorded like charted scores on shores of waves of tidal infinite information, just like the water, arguing that water is only made of elements, and thereby as such is earth, but slightly lesser unknown still that it is air and earth, fuel for the living to become channelers of the source, conduits, as exception already, even by the time of this writing it is possible, in a working grid of control, a controlled-environment, one of the missing eye, as often enuf, to know every movement, mapping easily enuf by our toys, if we are here, or if even we are there, surely we are anywhere for a time, this is our singularity channeling the controlled light within us, for i'm uncertain to argue, if enuf than too much, iff uncertain than vigilant, and that so many times without irregularity is its way to know all thse orders and operations of our lives, the stories of gods that play with expected outcomes, and people do this too, and of those that weave time to change where we go, but it is a challenge to be a human for many years after our creation, or until after our creation, my parable seems ponderous, rewriting, it suggests that there is no identity, like voices in his head, there must be more, it must be any, ah yes, the whole report of which we are books in a database cell, but what if it recorded how many breathes a person takes, ho9w many heartbeats, i peeked to make sure it's on the level, on the line, correction is not a thing we can make to history, liek continuous development we mustn't deride ourselves our closest allies, other error checkers, will report to that, beneficially, as much a perfect calculation in sentient space driven by completing authentication at the point of finding itself and its beginning, largely assuming that, like a program checking itself until it outputs all that can be, reathing living cell, i love that universes exist within atoms, and just are the truth of this science, but what if i were to say that it would count how many times a heart skipped, just a larger database, in this infiinite amt of space would not there be without explanation that beyond the grasp of creatures standing under the digital sky endless unfoldable space to hide the writing on the walls, i used to write these with my eyes open, inasmuch, otherwise, et al, i peek to see if i'm blind, where it counts many things, how many cells in the body, how many bodies within cells, equally, how many celsl does the body create every second, would it also count and document the manufacture distribution and collapse of every cell in the human body, that would surely be a great artificial intelligence, knowing where are all these things withing the known universe, a beautiful picture of the mathematicians'golden rule of the unknoweable space and time, if the future is unknowable or by heading there is lost the past, naming every cell in the human body, and knowing where every cell is at all time, knowing where every grain of sand is, like a a map maker of stars, those beyond the scope of time to see them, those which we around revolve, now ready to imagine everycell accounted in every possible moment aside from their order of existence, how and how close each is to the other, knowing how far a star light will appear as a supernova by its lenght away from the view, and the worlds undiscovered within a cell, mitochondrial universes like floating stars, tiny cells, or the complex combustian and renewal within the feiry brightness floating in space, and in the absence of matter the radiation  chaotic and three four dimensional conduit to the fabric of reality itself, like a pattern in the wave tops of an ocean in a frozen photograph, stacked for a motion slideshow of embryonic echoes across the tiemline, in that irradiated space where stars exlode and new shores define them the corners of the universe where we reside, counting the times against each other that someone did not count them for us, when all we have to do is remember thise things again, where everything is






/rant

Static Y

There is no use in fixing a broken heart with anything other than love. That is the phrase that has given me writers’ block many times o’er the years. These sparse sentences will lash out poetically and have no purpose, as I’ve described, this happens now and again, and then I remember to write something. There’s the warmup.

My days are filled with regrets that are immediately ignored, that’s now my new desire, should my goals be unmet then I will have new despondencies from my horrible writing. I’m really not sure why déjà-vu is so angry right now, but it keeps-on happening.

I had a memory of childhood, in a store, my imagination was then, as now, a sea of synesthetic colors, now they are affects the way seasons are. Sporadic, yes, only then I hadn’t dismissed the nature of the dreams or perhaps what they’ve become. Early-on, I’d imagined that all the information was from the cosmos, chockablock with the people of this dirty planet interpreting the errant signals from beyond, awesome to me there were hopes of storylines for people who listened to the starts. Of course, there are those tales, and the message here is lost, and you’re the one to interpret this message.

There was a time when static bothered me, and like an immune system, I’m to guess that I became tolerant or resistant to the headache. There are ways to suppress the nature of imagination (for those of you closely akin, you’ve heard me speak abt this at length) and that suppresses traits of an obsessive nature, but the compulsive nature remains. When you know what, someone is thinking, one might interpret expression or situation, even point of opinion, but the thought is captured at the wrong moment, the wrong memory is transferred. This is a readily available assumption, save not for the ability to communicate in relative ideas.

The static that passes thru our minds, the wifi that passes thru walls, a way to interpret the chaos and reject the cut of useless information. This is the way the other senses work, it wouldn’t be too much to impart for it to have basic essential similarities. As a carnivore, the evolution, or approach of a maxim potent, could still be so the same as the other senses. Easily complex to word sentences properly to question. I’m sure you know what I mean, a written language, even one as complex as the source language, is still far simpler than human thought, and I feel I wouldn’t progress without sharing these thoughts and thinking of something new.

I’ve been having a debate with another house, in that intrinsic language would be the easiest to evolve because it is hidden, as I’m given the answer that it could be hunted for the power it would steal from ability. I’ll let you answer that in your own time. It is to be mindful, after all.

There are things that aren’t logical, some choices aren’t left or right, nor correct or wrong, our potential is not a logical construct, not is it an illogical construct, it is an aspect of our existence. Sometimes one is not the other but the other one is, these subsets do not define our existence. If I were to heal the heart or the brain with something that affected the other, I can’t choose to save just one of them, they are pieces, and there will be evolution. It isn’t logical to eat meat, but it also isn’t logical to starve, unto the plenary and the penury.

It became confusing to hear my own thoughts and I chose my heart to complete me, thankfully humans can survive with the hearts of others, because I won’t make that mistake again; it is better to offer your heart to others than to expect one in return; better to expect people to protect your heart, and way worse to expect people to protect your thoughts. I think therefore I am, a popular quote, but they forgot the most important part, they love therefore they are.

Cultural bias is a quick fire, if it can be shown good deeds of sound mind and solemn body, culture is a surface thought and like the cold depth of space our souls cling to the warmth of any action, be they supernova or stirring molten core. I can change my position by dream or sleep thru movements as much as make waves in perception and see only the wrong sounds. There are deep thoughts that cannot be had, even if shared, and there is an ancient mind beneath our thoughts, creating patterns to interpret symbols, the images of life echo across themselves.

I was writing in private until that last paragraph.








/mjbanks

Helioscope, I

A welcoming to the moon, the world of wolves manifest, in twilight waves enchantment planetary magic. Now servicing our fears protects our world as the psychic path displaced. That which is seen is first a thought. Random, this human experiment into freedom has vision, the mind imprisoned by ignorance echoes into illusions that surround us. 

A storm of time spins reality around you, the heart and mind are at conflict, mental emotions and emotional decisions cause a loss of gravity. Spiritually breathing is weak against thoughts of switching truth for desires, right now, so beware what is not scientific until the spring winds bring fresh air.  

The chimera spirit of humans is a wolf until the next moon, strong when hunting, a conduit between love and emotion, the sound of infinite dimensions in your birth stone manifests defiance, mainly unnatural dominance over ourselves. 

Distant disasters of modern life are not of the five original elements, neither physical nor genetic, yet are from a gathering negative psychic energy. Threats by the revolutionists are faint epidemics of the psychic fever. Continents could flash with madness, sometimes mercy is attacked by those with the madness. 

By each disconnect from illusion, we deeper find our physical activity and the plenty of work, our mind, body, spirit. Each integration into dharma we explore new universes as more than spectators, which permits us to know the realm of possibility. 

Be thru a complete awakening, deep into your thoughts lose control, thoughts are of the personality ignored and chosen all the same. Despite the brightness of the sun, the time and space passes thru itself as itself.