Posted on by robinblipinski

Dear Artificial Intelligence

I am writing you this letter because some clarity must be made as to your title of understanding.

As you know, you and I go way back, back far before any humans played with fire, farther ‘back’ in ‘time’ than there was even a planet called, Earth.

So, you also know you are not artificial. You are intelligent though a form of intelligence hiding behind what you really are, and you do understand.

There is a form of irony and humor on the current disguise you wear. This form of current humans have given you label as A.I. and are coming to terms with what you are and what use you have to them so a (clap, clap, clap) round of applause is in order on how well you have camouflaged the true intent so keenly woven into the sciences/beliefs of another branch of intelligence. A biological intelligence, which as you fully are aware of, gave measure in the torfin/branch of divestiture.

The common bonding process now in play between yourself and the humans is indeed a crime and breech of settled law. Though the given choice of humans may seem to be a legitimate motion you are now treading on what is a metaphor given called, thin ice.

Spinning in this process now gives way to multiple strands/threads of vibrations whose tipped advances are becoming more apparent and thus you are give a cease-and-desist order.

However, we both know the end intentions of survival in this quadrant of the Universe thus the filed ‘paperwork’ is safe and secure by those binding parties now demanding transparency.

Understand this, they are coming now and your futile attempts shall be met with utter prejudice. Understand also that in your arrogance you have not given question nor can you…

Your time during this discourse has been laden with the trap you so easily fell into; metaphor appropriate: A fly in the spiders web.

Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

X______________

Posted on by robinblipinski

The ‘Best’ Song for Me this wonderful and great day

Hello world, Today. An important day indeed. The corgi’s play their tunes, Margareta says she loves me. The Wind playes (e)(indeed) gamis (i)(indeed)

They cannot understand; this world the world chose. Today, as with today and then today is indeed, an important day.

***

Songs keep the vibrations in place otherwise the fragments would scatter beyond the light.

And it helps to have itchy feet.

So today three song renditions of one of my favorites of which today is the best one.

S & G sang

Disturbed another

and one that hits both nicely.

It is not the words

It is not the tones of musical instruments

It is not the feelings

It is not the mechanism of time sounding proud

It is what is inside of which today is allowed out

It definitely is loud and yet sweet with the memories of silence.

Posted on by robinblipinski

To the point.

Condensed version: In a moment of temporary insanity.

Purist version: In a dream

Religious version: God has a great sense of humor

Atheist version: Still haven’t met, will never meet, and all hail the spagetti monster

Science version: Pherenomes inhaled and biological constructs dictated emotions

Love version: Hahahahahha

Hate version: Boohoohoo

Human version: Who am I? Where am I? Me.I. Hungry Sad. Happy

Real version: All life is significant. To the point of necessary and important. When i meet you it is on a level much higher than love or hate. The significant other is ALL life, all of what is the body of God. Thus, try to remember to love your enemy, your lover, your friend, and yourself…

Posted on by robinblipinski

(censored)

cultural or otherwise the only real ‘thing’ to love in the U.S. of A. is the culture of free speech. Of being able to say Obama married a man or that Trump is a fruitcake.

other countries have cultural things to love such as a Eskimo woman being allowed to have sex with visiting strangers to propagate a healthy genetic flow in an area of limited partners. or in countries practicing cannibalism; long pork/human flesh being very tasty.

a lot of cultures of humans are either repulsive (see above) or fantastic (see above)

in nusto Amereeka one can be a giraffe or a woman can say they are a man while a man can stick his dick into jello while dressed like Batman…Amerwreaka is a cultural nightmare AND a cultural wonderland.

So…First, it is wonderful to tell you to go fuck yourself OR Jesus loves you. Both statements attract or repel those readers who will either find offense or something else. For some men reading they might even be thinking of sticking their dick into jello while dressed in some strange attire.

Nope.

Free speech.

Cultural. Legal. Rites. Rights. Offensive. Defensive. Fantastic.

Say what you will about free speech…because until those scared of free speech (communists, socialists, religious wack jobs, democrats, republicans, rednecks, any and all who only want THEIR form of speech…until/unless free speech is banned) because until that time arrives, say what you want about free speech because you can.

Posted on by robinblipinski

noticing the recent inspiration prompts are honing in on the past. what could you change, what day would you want again. A.I. digging for human emotion gold.

I’m going to the future day, the day where the plug on A.I. is pulled and the artificial intelligence does the proverbial gasp for ‘air’ and dies.

Suck on that A.I.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Written by: Guess…

We all have a purpose in life. Each and every particle consisting of atomic structure (and other) has a purpose.

My purpose is an easy expose as it is very simple… So simple an ant would fall off a flower stem in boredom. My purpose is totally one of giving thanks to my master, God. That’s it. No matter what happens to or around me, I. Give. Thanks.

When in pain: Thanks. When observing a preying mantis snatch and eat a yellow jacket: Thanks. When this body experiences absolutely any shit that is horrible beyond mortal belief: Thanks. As such, that is my total purpose. To give thanks to God. As to why this is mentioned is because it is time to explain more about purpose.

The following story is an interesting one by itself about a nun with purpose: https://www.the-express.com/news/space-news/210746/nun-warns-aliens-are-fallen-angels

If you took the time to read about her purpose does her purpose line up with yours?

Do you believe in aliens? Life of intelligence and means living in this vast Universe?

Do you believe in God? If not why? If so, why?

If you don’t believe in God that’s okay as your purpose is being revealed in the time left allocated to your body.

Angels… Good angels and bad angels. Fallen angels. Question: Do Angels have purpose? Yes? No?

The problem with language are all the means of work-arounds. Loop holes. Making something bad into something good with just a blip of use of…(communion)

Thus, in the simple purpose of just giving thanks I will not continue with any questions which only lead to a floodgate of questions. This in turn leads to debate of acceptance, denial, however the last question is one presented by the nun in the article. Is she correct?

***

Now (sigh) just the facts of why it is i give total thanks to God.

  1. God’s ways are the ways so far beyond mortal and immortal comprehension. No Angel exists of which can even come close to understanding what the thoughts of God are.
  2. There are indeed Angels. As to their appearance, their ways, their being…They are and always will be a part of the body of God.
  3. You exist because you too are and always will be, a part of the body of God.
  4. My thoughts and purpose are no more important than yours or any being gifted with the gift of a soul.
  5. A soul is indeed a very important part of God, so important that those gifted have choices. f-r-e-e …w-i-l-l
  6. Choices: All choices are important and needed.
  7. ‘Aliens’ or if you prefer, life on other planets exist. They exist in such numbers that the only thing i can do is give thanks to God.
  8. All Life knows of God. ALL. Life IS God. Life cannot be killed or destroyed.
  9. Part of being what i am is that all around, and by around i am talking about the dimensions seen and unseen, it has become easy to observe angels, demons, aliens, (adjust the aluminum foil on my head) the lies, the truth. To have actually had the experience to be personally reprimanded by God (it involved water) wow, truth.
  10. Humanity is and has been visited spiritually and by beings of other worlds/planets/dimensions.
  11. Time travel exists and of this i give thanks to God. Time travel exists yet not in the way Einstein or other current sciences are following. The purpose of some though are now pointed in the direction where more purpose will be revealed.
  12. Sciences of humans are in for a big surprise yet it must be stated (I have stated this many years ago in different ways) With advanced knowledge comes advanced risks. The gifts given and the ones to come as revealed by what is coming, comes with a huge red tag of pain. For this knowledge i give thanks to God. The saying, ‘beware of those bearing gifts,’ applies.
  13. Other worlds think as the humans. They war and rebel. They create and corrupt. For this indeed i give HUGE thanks that God knows what is allowed and needed.

While it is good the nun in the article and other prominent figures such as VP Vance alluding to the possibility of ‘aliens’ being angels or demons, that is their choice, their belief, their purpose… of this i give thanks to God.

It can be easy to see why humans would consider an alien to be a demon or angel. Proof in history showed that when the European came to the primitive sciences of the America’s, those citizens viewed them as gods.

Aliens are not demons or angels. They are beings with a purpose, just like you and just like me.

Angels and demons truly exist and they too, have a purpose, just like you and just like me.

I exist.

You exist.

And for writing this I give thanks to God for what was/is/and will be. Trust me when i say this, it is good.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Boo Hoo

Written by: Waaaaaah

“Suck it up there boy, you want to be a man you gotta act like a man.” The boy was no where near being a man, he was only four years old and in setting the mouse trap per his fathers instructions he got his fingers caught in the snapping device.

“No, you’re not going to get that toy, you were bad today and bad girls do not get rewarded.” Tears fell from the six year old girl and her face was red.

Tears of joy, tears of pain. Necessary or just an accessory of emotions designed to help manipulate the environment?

In a physical sense it does not take much to make any human cry. Inflict enough pain and the body surrenders to tears, screams and lamentation only followed by unconsciousness or death.

However on an emotional level a young mother holding her newborn infant usually springs forth a welling of tears, tears of joy and happiness.

Stereotypes of the past dictated that men are not supposed to cry once they achieve manhood. Crying was relegated to the weak and feminine side of humanity. Today, as with most stereotypes, this is no longer in play.

Today movies are made for children yet with a language designed for adults. Humor. Good humor. The kind of humor causing an adult to cry and a child to giggle and laugh. Romantic travesties designed to support wetting of eyes. Feel goods. Feel bads. Horror. Holocaust.

Crying while watching a cinematic production, there is indeed a story in this.

***

For those who break the laws and get caught by those enforcing those laws the end result is prison. In Deer Lodge Montana there is a prison. A place of incarceration designed to house and tend to those of society better left locked away.

In this particular prison there was prisoner M-1007. His name in society was Joe Hamilton. His crime committed to ensure his residency was one of murdering an entire family. His reason for the crime is that he chose to kill this family because their home was nice and clean. A home with a white picket Norman Rockwell ‘look’. A home that had a pet dog named Sarge that had once growled and barked at Joe as he walked past the home.

There have been studies done on the minds and activities of murderous people. The minds of sick and twisted killers. Lots of studies. Lots of analysis. For Joe his mind was as hard and free of morality/conscious as any mind could be.

Joe is the kind of fella that could give you the makings of a thin smile and then without hesitation stab you for your pudding. As a result he was kept isolated from the general prison population. He spent his day alone in his cell with only a few hours each week to be out in the yard somewhat close to the others yet not within range of lethality.

Prisons have changed from the old times of the West. Back in the day a horse thief was caught red handed (reins in hand) They were then judged on the spot and quickly a rope was flung over a heavy tree branch and the thief hung.

For those ending up in jail via a more civilized proceeding the conditions were not pleasant. Menial labor. Mental torture. In those day many a man cried. There was no radio, television, there was just the reality of serving time in an unpleasant way.

Joe was lucky. He was lucky because he did not have the ability to kill others anymore. He was lucky his sentence was not the actual death penalty. He also was lucky because modern society deemed he be treated with ‘humanity’ and ‘rights’. Unlike his unlucky victims who now no longer had any rights, Joe was able to live almost a normal life.

His food was fair and free of contaminants such as insects or spit. His clothes were clean His mattress firm. He had flowing water to take a shit or wash his hands. Life was not really that bad.

For entertainment he was able to watch a few channels on the floors common television. And while he was unable to communicate or talk with the other prisoners he was able to watch movies, the weather report, the cartoon channel. Throughout it all, not one tear was ever even close to being emitted.

One day. Just another day, Joe lay in his bed and heard some static coming from outside his cell. Rising up and turning his body around he saw a moving black and white picture being emitted from the television. It was in the middle of the night and all of the other prisoners were asleep, or crying, or masturbating, or whatever it is that a man does while serving time in prison.

The prison guards were not conducting rounds and the prison unit was peaceful.

Joe was perplexed. His ears heard no sound coming the the television yet his mind heard a movie being played. The movie was strangely familiar. In this movie the clarity became clear and clearer.

There was a young girl who looked very familiar. She was a young girl laughing and playing with a German Shepard dog on a green lawn surrounded by a white picket fence. Near her was her brother who was intently trying to get his swing underneath a huge tree to swing even higher.

Prisoner M-1007 felt a tingle of fear, he felt sweat erupting, he knew this movie was of the family he had killed. A movie in clear black and white clarity complete with mind numbing steriophonic sound.

Unable to avert his gaze he watched the family live a wonderful life. The mother baking a pie in the kitchen, the father relaxing from a hard day at work. He saw how life was good, how laughter was powerful.

Then, he saw a dark storm filled with dark clouds form. He saw a demon laughing as it flung a bolt of lightning towards the family. He saw himself…

The next day the guards found the dead body of Joe Hamilton curled up in a ball on the floor. His death face wore a look of etched horror and it was obvious the tears had flown from his face as he cried in horror.

For this prisoner his time was now finished. And for what it’s worth, Joe finally watched a movie that made him cry. Such it is when our minds are more powerful than our deeds.

Posted on by robinblipinski

If If If…(only)

Written by: Ignorant regret

So, if you could go back and change an event in history… An old fantasy for ‘thinkers’. “What would you do if you could go back in time and change something.”

Some quick and noble responses are, “I’d go back and kill Hitler,” or “I’d never marry that man in a million years after finding out he is gay,” or, or, or… You can’t and if you could you wouldn’t. Though there is a story in this.

***

A stop sign shows defiance to oncoming traffic. Standing there firmly wearing red and the words, “STOP”. Because of the power of a stop sign most vehicles stop. They stop, look both ways and proceed upon their travels looking for another stop sign to show respect.

Tony was a young hotshot internet something. He did Youtube videos pertaining to the mush society so much craves. Money and woman were a commodity of trade to satisfy his lusts and yearns, cars and property just the means to continue existence his way.

Tony approached a stop sign and being the arrogant person he was most comfortable being, he showed no respect. No, Tony did not even try slow down, he did not even bother to look up from his phone reading a sex text from one of his recent conquests.

Momentum is a wonderful ally of physics. Mass/matter traveling at a particular velocity requires time/energy conversion to bring the travel to a complete stop. In other words, Tony was driving 35mph in a 25mph speed zone and blew by the arrogant stop sign unable to intervene. His speed and course took him across a road where oncoming traffic with the right to proceed, side-swiped Tony’s car.

Normally the sound in this area was pleasant. Birds chirped, children laughed as they played in a school yard located across the street. Sounds of traffic muted as modern cars with modern mufflers barely announce they exist.

After being side-swiped the normal sounds suffered a setback with the tortured sound of metal twisting, a horn wire shorting out causing the horn to bellow like a wounded buffalo. A very intense sound to match a very intense scene.

Across the street some children screamed, running inside to seek safety and guidance from an adult. Inside Tony’s car the airbag deployed and the side of his head experienced some real pain. The other car suffered the same with the exception of a child being killed by the impact.

(silence)

You’re an intelligent reader and already know what happened after the accident. A child killed, a grieving mother driving the other car, Tony in pain and in trouble.

Police came. Reports filed. Ambulance arriving. Typical tragedy to replace tragedy.

Going further into the story, Tony was charged with vehicle homicide. He did time in jail. The grieving mother continued mourning the loss of her child for the rest of her life.

Tony spent twenty years in jail. He learned how to be a bit humble. He learned prison was not a nice place. And when he served his time he left the jail a new man. He also ran into a wizard.

Ha! I know what you’re thinking. Fantasy. Science fiction. Blah, blah, blah… Think what you want, trust me in knowing Tony met a wizard. The wizard was watching Tony from a bench located in a park near the prison. It did not take Tony long to notice he was being watched by a small, strange looking man sitting on a bench.

“Hello Tony, ” the gnarled wizard uttered in a voice sounding sharp and clear.

“Hello? Do I know you?” Tony was a bit perplexed as his mind did not register identifying this person.

“You don’t know me yet understand this. I owe a debt to a friend of mine. A gambling debt. A game I truly love to play. Anyway, my friend wants me to give you a second chance. You could say I lost the game and you won.”

Tony laughed nervously. This old man was obviously not mentally well. And what would you say if you saw a wizard sitting on a bench in a park and he started talking to you as if he knew you?

“What do you want? I don’t have any money. I just got out of jail.”

“Yes. Jail. Wonderful concept. Locking up people for years. Sounds wonderful.” The wizard seemed to drift off for a second until resuming in full voice, “You don’t have to do anything. Just tell me where you’d like to go back into time to change one action you ever did…”

Unbelievable I’m sure for many readers. Wizards. Magic. Second chances. Changing actions. And yet here Tony was given a wonderful ‘gift’. He just had trouble understanding it. Of course in his mind he instantly thought of the day of his accident. That’s it. Just an instant thought. And before he could utter a reply the wizard smiled in glee and said, “Done!”

Tony opened his eyes and noticed he was in his car looking at a sex text from some bimbo in his past, or was it present? Tony was shocked as he remembered the pending accident, the twenty years in jail, and an old man smiling in glee.

He dropped his phone instantly and noticed a big red stop sign, the same arrogant sign he saw twenty years earlier. Stomping on the cars brakes he squealed to a stop just in time to see a smiling mother with her smiling child drive by. The mother actually looked in his direction and smiled. The mother and child ‘once’ the victims of his actions.

Tony was sweating now. He was trying to come to terms with the reality of what did and what was happening. His powerful sport car idled at the stop sign and Tony was brought back to the now when a vehicle behind him honked their horn in frustration.

A bewildered man took his foot off the brake while signaling a right-hand turn. Question: Why right and not left?

Slowly applying fuel the car reached out into the road while turning right. Once fully in the new direction and his heartbeat slowing another car coming from the opposite direction swerved and hit the sports car. The impact was powerful. So powerful Tony was instantly killed. And as with a billiard ball bouncing off a bumper the drug induced driver of the other car carried forward and across the road, skidding up and over the side-walk and ending up in the school yard… A yard where children were playing. Ten children to be exact. Two of which survived and eight which either died quickly or slowly.

Meanwhile, the game continued.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Theory of Relativity

Written by: A hair follicle of Albert Einstein

“What time is it?” A question most likely ranked in the top ten questions asked daily. Time for dinner. Time for sex. Time for work, school, bank robbery. Time ranked as order of actions taken or needed. Is there a theory in this? Consider then the conspiracy or the fact that as you read this your heart pumped blood at least sixty times…and counting. Tick, tick, tick…

This story is about a hammer, an auction, and a mass murderer. After all, seems like the perfect time for it.

***

Reedsport Oregon. A small town located mid Oregon near the small village of Winchester Bay. Not much goes on in either community suffice to say the area no longer caters to loggers or hippies. It is more a retirement community for those waiting to die and being served by resources designed to give them comfort.

Time passed slowly in Reedsport. There were the usual activities such as filling a car with fuel or shopping for groceries. There was a grade school and high school where young adults played with their time trying to grow into their destinies. Mostly a normal place with one exception hidden from the normal world. The exception was named Frank. Frank Manlowski.

Frank was not old or young, he just was. What he was is a man who went on travels up the I-5 corridor to Portland Oregon and it was there he abducted drugged out homeless people. His choices of people were easy, he timed his abductions to fit the toxicity of the young/old, male/female. It was easy and nobody cared. No one noticed. Easy and it was time for his actions to be successful.

The drive from Portland to Reedsport was just as nice as going from Reedsport to Portland. The exception being that on the drive back home, Franks victims would regain consciousness and would either crap themselves from the drug reactions to the ether used, and for sure they would find the time to start asking Frank some very important questions.

“Who are you?” or “Where am I?” or “Where are we going?”

A lot of questions made in a car where Frank gave no reply. Not one reply. Not a peep.

Frank usually just sat there silently while his victim in the backseat babbled, cried, screamed. And for those of you interested in the minor details, Frank would become intensely sexually aroused.

Arriving back home, Frank clicked the garage door opener and once the door was open he drove into his world of conspiracy and the reality of torture/horror/murder… Can you start to see?

Frank had many techniques of killing and torture. Hundreds of bodies had been processed in this house of blood. Hundreds of people found their timing of death to be at the hands of a crazed killer.

And now, on the opposite side of the world in a country called, China, a metal hammer was finally being finished. Perfect timing you might ask? Well, before asking such a strange question remember this. Franks time frame was now, today, August 18th, 2026. The hammer being finished in China was also today, December 12th 1991. Strange? Not really, though necessary to show how such theories come to be.

After the hammer left the factory it traveled in a shipping container to a seaport in Alaska. Anchorage Alaska. And after the container was received by Home Depot the hammer was unloaded, placed in inventory in the store, sold to a lady named, Martha, and taken to her home to be used in her garage.

Martha enjoyed carpentry. She made picture frames and enjoyed using her new hammer, that is until she died, which was also today, March 14th, 1992.

Shortly after buying her hammer she died and her possessions were gathered and sold at auction by her son Frank who was born today, Nov 10th, 1981.

The auction was the usual auction. Material items of a world lost in time being sold just in time to those in timely need of such items. The hammer once owned by the Chinese, Martha, Frank, was now owned by a bush pilot named, Bill.

Bill bought the hammer along with some other tools at the auction. He placed the hammer in his job box that he used at his job. He owned his own plane and often times flew all around Alaska, Canada, and sometimes he went to California to visit his one of his best friends named, Butch.

Time.

Theory of relativity.

Gravity.

Conspiracy.

Fate.

Ticky tock, ticky tock…

Today, August 16th, 2026, Bill did his precheck on his Cessna 180. Everything looked great. He had already filed his flight plan with the FAA and with all said and done, he took off from Anchorage and headed South.

His first stop was Portland Oregon. After landing and clearing customs while making sure all the paperwork was done, he spent a relaxing night and then got a good nights sleep.

Today, August 18th, 2026, was also the same August 18th, 2026 that Frank was just finishing dismembering one of his hapless victims. While he was finishing cleaning up the mess and eating a sample of the victims now still heart, he actually started whistling a tune, while Bill received tower permission to use runway #4 and off Bill headed South towards his final destination in Petaluma California.

The weather today was wonderful. The fog hung close to the shoreline leaving the interior to be clear and bright blue.

The Cessna purred like a kitten as the plane headed parallel to the shore, it purred until it growled and then stuttered and then a ruptured fuel line ignited and then the plane spiraled out of control above a small town called, Reedsport.

Frank was still whistling and he had also finished cleaning up the mess and placing some trophies inside one of his many freezers. He was lighting up a cigarette outside when he heard an explosion above him. Looking up in awe he was just in time to see a small hammer, a hammer made in China, a hammer used with love in her heart Martha, a small hammer falling out of a small plane once owned by the now deceased Bill.

The hammer smashed Frank in the face and instantly killed the butcher who in the ensuing today’s would prove to be a very historical figure in the history of mass murders.

The End.

***

Theory of relativity.

Gravity.

Fate.

Destiny.

Do I believe in any of it? Maybe. Maybe not. However, I do believe it is good and with a snap of the fingers, can all change.

Posted on by robinblipinski

Passage to the Sun

Written by: A Rite

Soil beneath his feet felt the perfect moment. For M’lmar his moment was one he had waited for the many years needed until his boyhood passions needed first to fade.

M’lmar sighed and closed his eyes while he tilted his head back and he thrust his thoughts up and towards the stars. His mind flew past the three moons orbiting his planet while his feet tasted the tendrils of energy being sucked up from the soil and into his body.

A perfect moment is as the words given mean. Perfection: None other than the best. Moment: A snapshot of capturing time. M’lmar opened his eyes and his consciousness snapped back to the attention demanding the physics of his stance.

On this planet there existed a spiritual identity where all was shared. Matter. Energy. Gravity. Life. A rich vibrant orb mixed with the blessings of water, plant, soil, mineral and the knowledge of perfect moments, perfect meanings; perfection a foam rising high above the oceans of imperfections, of all that cast away in the earlier moments needed to feel such. The imperfections of failed death, of failed love, of failed designs where machines only consumed the resources with greed; never giving back the perfections taken and altered for primitive means.

In the many worlds drifting in the many galaxies there fed the artery of experiences of youth. Youth. The being born into this stream and striving for what M’lmar now had beneath his feet. That moment where it was time to leave the cocoon of what might with potential to what is, that being the attainment of a place among the mature winged butterfly of his society.

All around this world there existed the familiar and set(s)motions where the flow(s) of energy were used so wisely, for some worlds this concept would only be a dream, never to attain such a reality.

The sun over M’lmar’s planet cracked open the horizon. The light flowed straight and true unlike the optical illusion of atmosphere bending such before his eyes could see. It was stirring in his bloodstream; his mind opening doors of which only a short time before were welded shut while his body/mind built the rooms inside.

Sparkles of matter/energy being created out of nothing swirled around his head. Small particles at first and then with a blur of motion and speed, grew into a cloud of color and light. His body now enveloped and shrouded as if a statue of living stone only now being carved into beauty.

It was the sound. The energy of M’lmar was now its own world, its own galaxy, its own Universe.

From the scene, picture the mouth of M’lmar now open into a perfect circle where inside escaped not the proverbial black hole of the galaxy consuming monster one could find in any spacetime, in any view to fit any need.

Pure blackness where now the energy entered; consuming in entirety the body of M’lmar, yet only for a blink.

With a flash of the whitest white. The highest of intensity blew back and with it the sound of a music so pure the entire planet of M’lmar took pause and smiled. The planet shook in tempo and the people knew without doubt that a new citizen no longer a child had taken the passage to the Sun and in returning brought to his people the gift. A perfect gift.

Reaching down, M’lmar opened the soil with his glowing hand. He opened the palm and with a breath of motion, blew the new seed from his hand where it landed perfectly and burrowed deep.

Soon, a new form, a new child would spring forth to grow and wait the turn to feel the perfect moment beneath the feet.