Ha!

/reminds me of the two old men/

Have you heard the sleight of words?

Inside, bouncing a cycle around…

Drunk?

Drugs?

Mentally mental mind?

or maybe it is the completion of the perfect

of such emergent task rounded

attaining the perfect soul.

those lamentations of those to show regret

of fibers spun of moonlight and small rabbits

carry my minds where familiar is

again.

If I did not know the meaning of the word, taco, I would find the word to be fun to utter.

Taco. I saw a taco. Why did the taco cross the road? Can a taco be cured? That is one sexy taco!

And this is what today boiled down to. The interesting way I find the word, taco.

I wonder though, is the word, taco, more interesting in utterance than the word, mitochondrial?

dressed as itself retaining the same dimensions and structure

it could be black surrounded by white or white surrounded by black

really it does not matter.

even now it is

in front vibrating in shuffle at speeds past a blur to the slowness of a drop a sap in the midst of a winter storm. all able to switch so so very sudden, more so than fast

minds have a way of adjusting to situations as they occur

adapt

evolve

yet in the end the mind is stubborn in the comforts of experience found

so

in a pause of sanity/insane

to open the window of the home lost in time

and smell the flowers growing in Spring.

Long before there were humans. Much longer than there has been this Universe so many think and have come to understand as being a present and unique existence, there was war.

There are periods where a person thinks their world matters, that the feelings of joy and happiness or anger and hate really have a meaning. For the individual, for the planet Earth and those uncountable others bearing Life, it does matter but only for the beings, the minds of such worlds. However, it has no meaning as a whole for a war so old, so violent, so powerful that every Sun in existence combined would be but a dim flicker of a candle set to glow alone in a vast desert during the darkest of night compared to the power of what has fought itself for what some would say, eternity.

Throughout eternity there have been and will be and (impossible to translate) beings that have come to understand that there is much more than themselves and whatever world(s) they inhabit. Sadly, for most, it comes far too late. But a very few, a tiny fragment of sand called Life realizes that the body, the energy, the soul, needs to become what it is and not what the body is.

Some say death is a portal to a new world, a new life, a beginning. Some say that death starts the clock over again as the Life is reborn in a new body with energy and soul. There is a lot that biological creatures of intellect say and believe.

Time is a part of war. Time is also nothing more than an illusion and definition of what most regard as reality and of how a world functions.

Nuclear half life of 25,000 years or 50,000 years or even 1,000,000 years? And what is a year for Earth? 365 days? And a day is a cycle, a rotation of the planet as it circles a sun? For biology that accepts birth and death, it is a function that works well. But for that which infects and blesses Time, it is nothing more than a part of a battle immense.

Dimensions. You understand. I understand. Some understand four dimensions. A mother for example can know when her child is sick even without being with that child. But there are more dimensions beyond the four that can only be understood from the perspective of another form of energy.

So, a lot of words written in only a few minutes to talk of a war which all will consider a strange form of fantasy and fiction.

A tiny cell inside your body understands what is being written while the billions and trillions of cells combining inside your brain are absolutely clueless except, as the individual cell, it is fully understood… Now why is this? One cell knows as an individual yet in a group is blind? It is this way because it has to be, to confuse and comfort that which is unable to handle much more than the life the body has been given.

Pawn is a word worthy of a soldier. A foot soldier.

An organic body is a part of its planet. A foot soldier.

It would be wonderful to have others see what is so easy to see and feel. To travel without a body so far and so fast. To learn. To grow. To be.

But, it is also wonderful to have others blind to what is so easy to see and feel. To not travel. To learn what they cannot grasp. To shrink in horror at what is going on. To be.

There are many factors on many levels, on many layers. Call them Generals. Call them Angels. Call them Devils. To hate. To love.

This war  or War or WAR or however you want to call it, exists. A constant barrage of striving to become one completely… with one side… or, the other…

One cell knows. Combined, clueless. And there is a clue to ponder and as such, a small, tiny piece of inspiration.

***

For God so loved the world He sent his only begotten Son

to follow

Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do

and with

Forgiveness is such a great power it always wins above all, especially confusion.

seemingly a conflict

a parent says so, a child says no

yes and no]

[no and yet

political ambitions even if it means death

death if it results in life

which is why it is allowed, why so many try

to break asunder and separate from something of which they can never surrender

thankfully my hand is not on the button.

interesting day.

a day of being wrapped around in layers.

sounding a bit daft I just heard a man say, “Bat”

but then again, as the skin thickens while the blood thins

winged sensations come to mind…

how to climb, higher and higher

so high, and with singed soul

to feel the Dragon’s tongue.

Newspapers still speak of news, of messages of past and present times. Blurring speeds at which an editor means to present such scenes.

Want ads. For sale. National needs. All sorted sorts of, protection.

Did you see how the communication travels absent electronic means? Maybe even feel?

A group plotting openly with the protection of thoughts released. Oh, such thoughts spill for such to see…

Listen, even now, open warfare for such a powerful man and his words spoken; televised for a whole world to translate.

Let the hands of clock reverse. Let time flow back. Maybe it will cause the reactions to stop? Pity that. That those busy hands complete. Such determination to produce such sorrowful sounds when the squeal  falls with delighted tears and thunderous applause to sate those joys of evil deed

This one can be solved only if the resolve burrows deep, as deep as those putting their own graves… together.

I told him that I loved him

I told her that I loved her

How it is said, how it is spoken, how can such worlds bring so much change

he never knew

she never knew

strange how all so many hearts are connected.

Sometimes it is best to close the mind, shut down, relax. Sometimes what is best is not good for being a part of this worlds sanity.

“Grow up,” often said of dreamers and I say, “Why?”

Therefore my mind will never be closed leaving it open to explore and find

and in this it makes existence a viable means until this body fades and then

to shut down, relax, and smile.