Post by artolmaeus on Nov 8, 2022 0:43:41 GMT -6
you can read the end of the story
the means however divergent, have the same end
this unownable asset of time, is going on
nothing to borrow, none to lend
nothing to steal, nothing to take
to be or not to be, depends on something within time
what then shall we be if we are all we are
a creation of forces that within the meter
of some metronome outside of tempo
call it what you will, miracle, horror, terror, ecstasy, kingdom, serfdom
ahhh, keiser, konig or edelman
something more than a game
a game we cannot win
for we are not the players
and not to many are readers
too few are the authors or the architects
once cut, all are bleeders
depends on the depth and flow
of being a passenger on the wake
of something we cannot know
those forces that call us
lose our name and tread the paths of which we follow
without, within, wherever
the conflict of identity is that it needs no identity
no name or propriety
we are all we need of needing needs necessity
but necessity without definition
no one knows the perfect rhythm
not because of leadership
sacrificing the workers
because work is so small
yet it makes something for itself
leaves the analysis
that nothing needs be done or undone
but in all things, it is too weak to say
that we are something more than the something we are
it is the instance of waking up
does not mean you are also sleeping
the rest is the unknown
but curiosity is the key
if ever there should be a locked door
as needing is the universe
and wanting just a dot
maybe somewhere we are where we have been before
maybe we are just a thought
who then is the thinker
where is the stillness of silence
if it is to be found
then it does not have an audience
the means however divergent, have the same end
this unownable asset of time, is going on
nothing to borrow, none to lend
nothing to steal, nothing to take
to be or not to be, depends on something within time
what then shall we be if we are all we are
a creation of forces that within the meter
of some metronome outside of tempo
call it what you will, miracle, horror, terror, ecstasy, kingdom, serfdom
ahhh, keiser, konig or edelman
something more than a game
a game we cannot win
for we are not the players
and not to many are readers
too few are the authors or the architects
once cut, all are bleeders
depends on the depth and flow
of being a passenger on the wake
of something we cannot know
those forces that call us
lose our name and tread the paths of which we follow
without, within, wherever
the conflict of identity is that it needs no identity
no name or propriety
we are all we need of needing needs necessity
but necessity without definition
no one knows the perfect rhythm
not because of leadership
sacrificing the workers
because work is so small
yet it makes something for itself
leaves the analysis
that nothing needs be done or undone
but in all things, it is too weak to say
that we are something more than the something we are
it is the instance of waking up
does not mean you are also sleeping
the rest is the unknown
but curiosity is the key
if ever there should be a locked door
as needing is the universe
and wanting just a dot
maybe somewhere we are where we have been before
maybe we are just a thought
who then is the thinker
where is the stillness of silence
if it is to be found
then it does not have an audience
