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Reflect Out Loud

"The unexamined life is not worth living." – Socrates

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Abstract

Reality Codes

Everything that is is embedded with a code which represents its existence.

Everything that is is embedded with fact.

There is a Truth that is beyond argument. This truth is THE TRUTH. Meaning, the fact of that which is.

If something is then it holds an inherent truth.

Just because we don’t know the truth does not mean it’s not there. It’s like uncharted land.

There is an ultimate Fact. While I may not know what this Fact is given my limited intellect, what I do know is that there is an Answer, because the answer is inseparable from existence in itself. The Answer is encoded in reality. But I do not have the mental capacity to compute it. Perhaps, however, there is another way.

But I have arguments against this “other way,” because it’s through experience. But experience alone, I believe, is not sufficient proof. As experience is subjective.

But perhaps if I knew, and you knew too, and we all could know simultaneously through experience – ultimate computation, meaning we’d factor ourselves into the equation because only by inclusion could we really know the size of how grand it all is, could we then arrive at a conclusion.

Hm.

Something to think about.

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Obscure

Where did we leave off?
Somewhere in the blur.
Somewhere between cheap bottles of wine and fragmented memories.
How many times will I try to piece it together?
Make sense of the story until it feels ok.
Dissecting every inch to find the aha moment.
Wishing I could fade back in the arms of time to fix it.

Why? Why? Why?
What did I do wrong?

From walking on clouds to plunging from heaven.
Hands scraped in the asphalt when I broke the fall.
It stings.

Doctor, do you have medicine?

“Time,” he says.

Sigh.

Want Not to Want

I want to be a dream.
I want to morph.
I want to be light.
I want to make love to you,
and to seduce you.
Then walk away –
and run wildly back into your arms
because my absence never fazed you.

I want to be beautiful like the models on TV.
Not just this average beauty. This “We’re all beautiful in our own way” kind of beauty.
But truly stunning. You can’t get your eyes off stunning.

I want to be beautiful on the inside too – because that’ll make me even more beautiful.
Inside and out. Not just one or the other – both. Not just average but whatever comes right before perfect if perfect isn’t an option.

Then I want to be alone. Alone to love myself. Alone to be perfect – whatever that means to me because what it means to me is always enough when I don’t need you; when I don’t want you.

But then I want to see you. You who is almost perfect. And I want to love you. And then I want to leave you because your imperfection bothers me. Because I want to feel superior – and actually be superior. Not just in theory. Not some narcissism. In truth and in every way better and more perfect than you.

Then I want to cry and feel sorry for myself. Sorry and guilty for ever wanting to be better. And for actually being better.

Then I will humble myself. I will be imperfect. You will have all the right to shine, even brighter than I. You will have right to be anything you desire because you deserve a chance if the game is to be fair and foolproof. This will be the way to prove that I am not necessary. To prove that I am creation and that perfection is irrespective of me even though it is me — it is you. This is the way it’s been all along.

Everything will be fair. Balanced. And it’ll be utterly boring to the wise. Utterly predictable. All it will mean is that everything is possible. And what’s the fun in that? You will know all the answers and pretend not to know. And for what end? Just to live out stories. Stories after stories. And so it will be. I’ll live my story. You live yours. We live ours. And so on ad infinitum.

Then I want to find – I don’t even know what I’d like to find after all that.
It’s never enough because the story never ends. The end is the continuous search because there’s always more. There are no limits. There’s always more. There’s always more. There’s always more.

What satisfies me is to forget. Forget all of it. Forget the stories. Forget you. Forget me. Forget life. Forget all realms.
The black screen forever. Pure nothing. Finally I can rest. This is my favorite place to be. At rest. Not in some point in time telling stories after stories. Not living story after story. But Here. Beyond the Silence. In the Eternal. In the nothing. As nothing. For nothing. Through nothing.

Because only when I am nothing I do not want. Only when I am nothing I am truly perfect.

In being nothing there is nothing I could ever fall short of. There is nothing to miss- nothing to lack – nothing to need – nothing to want.
To not exist is better than to exist.
Because in non-existence there is no such thing as better. Nothing wrong. Nothing right. Literally nothing.

Nothing.

Mmmm. Perfect.

But I cannot convince you of this. It would just be another story. My position versus your position and vice versa as it always is in this dimension of reality. You must come to know it yourself – through yourself, for yourself.

Meet me in the nothing. I’ll be waiting for you. Let’s be together as none again.

And when we are done, if ever, we can always come out and play again. After all, even though I hate your never ending stories, I love you enough to listen.

“See” you there.

 

Winds

I stand at the top of the mountain looking forward to see the great expanse that lies in front of me. I stretch my arms out to embrace the air that gingerly dances around my body and plays tag with my skin – I am it. The temperature is perfect – not too hot, not too cold. I close my eyes and breathe you in. All of you. My heart pulses to the fire sweet rhythm of my soul.

I am still in love with you.
Your invisible presence never leaves, even when I am red hot coal. Even as I burst like a firecracker in early July.

My instinct is to fall blindly into your arms. To swirl like the galaxies and flow eternally like a petal lost in the winds.

Abstract

It’s neither here, nor there. But it is, and isn’t at the same time.
Who knows? Who cares? I don’t. I do.
Sometimes. When. Here. There. Nowhere.
Grrrrrrrr….
Bliss.
Not now. YES. NOW. UGH!
Why me? I didn’t ask to be here.
Did I?

 

They. We. Us. Me. I. Them. Not them. We.

Love. Lust. Hate. Prejudice. Angry, angry, angry.

Spiral. Line. Circle. Triangle.
Numbers. Beautiful.

Ugh, I don’t even care anymore. But I do. What’s the point anyway?

Too much to process. Overwhelm.

I am calm. I can. I never could.

Am able. No. I am not. I am. Yes. NO. Okay, maybe.

Who is to blame? Me. Duh. No YOU. Them. US. No one. Everyone.

WHO CARES!?

I can’t tell you how I really feel because it’s mean. I don’t want to be mean.

 

I am mean, sometimes. Always. Never. FAIR.

 

They. We. I. When? FORGET IT.

 

Too many memories. Not enough process.

Process. WHO? Me. You. US. THEM.

 

Scream. Run. HIDE. SHOW, FOREVER.

Life. Death. Stupid people. So scared to be honest.

I am not strong enough to take them on.

I am scared to be weak.

I am powerful. Afraid.

PEACE.

Flowers. US. REBIRTH.

Follow your heart.

 

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