This Post Has No Purpose…

The words connected inside it are unimportant.
Unimportant to you, to me and even the words themselves and the reality they exist within.

They will not create anything, no towers or structures reaching heaven.
They will not move you to tears, like the loss of a love or a loved one, or the madness of the sadness we create to move us.
They will not inspire you, lifting your heart to the highest peaks of spontaneous joy or love.
They will not make you sensually perceptive, reaching ecstasies of feelings and emotion that touch you.
They will not even make sense. They cannot, it is not what they do or want. They are just words.

Just words.
Words.
Shapes defined long ago to approximate things. Things are concepts that do not know themselves.

Things that we see, the sunrise on a beautiful morning where it seems the whole universe awakes.
Things that we don’t see, that we manipulate with logic and calculate with mathematical steps and order them neatly.
Things that we imagine, we create vistas and environments and perceive different realities to the one in your direct senses.
Things that we deduce, like a knife cutting into them and adding into structure and predictive thoughts.
Things that we believe or deny, in the end being neither and both, and better they be what you wish them to be.
Things that glue all of the above and more into strings.
Strings of shapes having meaning and length strewn across pages like legions lining up.

The words formed are not important, they are without purpose…

In ancient times chipped into stone the words of the ancients survive a moment of then into now.
In times where they are cut into leather, forming our records and denying our memory.
In times they are shaped into the sands passing along fresh ideas in a fleeting glimpse.
In times they are inked into paper, pressed into being a multitude of times without thought.
In times now, existing one more step away from reality as a number of pixels on your screen.

They are not real.
Meaningless…

Think of a word, for example ‘a cup’.
You cannot drink from the word, you cannot hold it.
It is simply a symbol of something.
So the word is not real.

This something that the word reminds you of does not exist either.
It is a thought, a concept, existing in the mind.
A thought of a thing that you think you know.
Does the thing really exist as a thought in your mind?

Test it, does it have a handle or no handle, does it have a colour?
Does it have any pattern, shape at all, after all it is a cup, is it cup shaped.
Or does it not exist at all as even a cup in your mind.
But the idea of a cup that you yourself defined as a baby.

The thought of a thing has no purpose but to point at the concept you hold.
It is not real, you cannot even look at it, feel it, hold it, you think you think it that is all.
This is only the beginning of the rabbit hole, what about this post?
Where does this exist now… Right now…

Right now, your now is my now, but our ‘now’s appear in different times and space.
Is the post here? Or is it there? In your mind? Or my mind?
Or is it just a thought of a post with no purpose.

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