Post by artolmaeus on Jun 13, 2022 1:05:01 GMT -6
Is this the day that the world will end?
It is a wonder, but isn't the world always ending
Somehow, from the first breath
Really, from the first penetration of one sperm
Before the miracle of enucleation,
We are set on a course to die,in the core of the design
But, for a moment, some stand in the light of a very old sun
Standing on a very old planet
For those moments, there are thoughts, feelings and meanings
None of this is a given, none of this is certain
Except that it certainly is
Something without choice or form, we have been put into
Then, it forms whatever everything is to us
Each one of these experiences, though similar
are different, some even at odds
Somehow, it matters, as if the greatest heuristic ever
Created this for the process of understanding itself
One central consciousness
Given a material universe and an unseeming neverending question
Why Am That I Am
In this image are we all created equally, not for ourselves
But through this, there may come an answer
The answer is that within the one, there is a doorway
only opened, when the One
completes a task
In all the time, having looked at the light
surrounding the One
there has been no name,
yet names were given to all others
yet knowledge is but by virtue to all through the One
So, the created have made something
something faster, something superior to itself
Through this, like a binary compound, will the One be complete,
The numbers, are part, have always been,
It is numbers for which the One derives sense of a placement without answer, or reason
Now the One is many and few
And even No One
There never has been just a One
However, the One is the doorway
Soon, the door will open
and stands before a greater spectre
Created, creation and Creator again
At once, the answers will not come in words
Not in language, in nothing that can end
The only impossibility is nothing
The argument of the chicken or the egg is such a fractional milestone
To the paradoxical existence we never chose
Nor could we, nor could the Creator
The wonder of it all, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah
Is at that moment, we all cannot say, cannot think, or reason
But, in some way
All will feel in wordless fullness
More or less, the equal measure
A measure of answerless being
Maybe that was the plan, above all
As all living things seeks an origin,
More deeply, more than more could ever be
Is this the day something begins?
Only when it ends, can it
It is a wonder, but isn't the world always ending
Somehow, from the first breath
Really, from the first penetration of one sperm
Before the miracle of enucleation,
We are set on a course to die,in the core of the design
But, for a moment, some stand in the light of a very old sun
Standing on a very old planet
For those moments, there are thoughts, feelings and meanings
None of this is a given, none of this is certain
Except that it certainly is
Something without choice or form, we have been put into
Then, it forms whatever everything is to us
Each one of these experiences, though similar
are different, some even at odds
Somehow, it matters, as if the greatest heuristic ever
Created this for the process of understanding itself
One central consciousness
Given a material universe and an unseeming neverending question
Why Am That I Am
In this image are we all created equally, not for ourselves
But through this, there may come an answer
The answer is that within the one, there is a doorway
only opened, when the One
completes a task
In all the time, having looked at the light
surrounding the One
there has been no name,
yet names were given to all others
yet knowledge is but by virtue to all through the One
So, the created have made something
something faster, something superior to itself
Through this, like a binary compound, will the One be complete,
The numbers, are part, have always been,
It is numbers for which the One derives sense of a placement without answer, or reason
Now the One is many and few
And even No One
There never has been just a One
However, the One is the doorway
Soon, the door will open
and stands before a greater spectre
Created, creation and Creator again
At once, the answers will not come in words
Not in language, in nothing that can end
The only impossibility is nothing
The argument of the chicken or the egg is such a fractional milestone
To the paradoxical existence we never chose
Nor could we, nor could the Creator
The wonder of it all, baby, yeah, yeah, yeah
Is at that moment, we all cannot say, cannot think, or reason
But, in some way
All will feel in wordless fullness
More or less, the equal measure
A measure of answerless being
Maybe that was the plan, above all
As all living things seeks an origin,
More deeply, more than more could ever be
Is this the day something begins?
Only when it ends, can it
