The loneliness of the distant sun
Never to be seen by anyone
But felt now in essence and idea only
From everything here to there becomes none
The code begins with the word
The word become meaning
Everything is run from the source
The source comes into being
Onto the edge of an infinite field the integers run
To the end of the universe to the final sun
And everyone from one has become one
The code itself has written itself
In and out of existence being
The only thing seeing
A thought is a concept of a thing. That things may be real, that is, it exists in the reality of a number of people, a common reality, or it may be a concept itself. The thought is not the thing. The thing is in a reality of its own and seems oblivious to the thought being made of it.
That Will Always Do What it was Created to Do
Can it be found by who I want it to be found by?
Does it have a purpose?
If it has a purpose then is it clear?
Is this purpose of value to the reader?
Is the action clear?
The words connected inside it are unimportant.
Unimportant to you, to me and even the words themselves and the reality they exist within.
Without expecting it and waiting for an internet connection to come back online I thought I would just let whatever was there just flow out… It feels good to do it but the result sometime looks really odd and I don’t know what to make of it. I just corrected the typos and pasted it here.
Anyway the connection is back…
The silent scream tears at the conceptual heart of the dream and travels down time to become a memory of what once was and seen.
There is a tree, at the edge of the cliff, it leaves reach out into the sky, feeling the changes of a distant hug given in vain.