The cure for addition,
is not prevention.
Treating addiction,
a path to liberation.
Should people be prevented?
Or should they be liberated?
To feel that liberation,
Requires condemnation.
But colder than rejection.
The curtain of prevention.
What say we, the veil of corporations?
Pray tell us, dear algorithmmm…sss
Why are old things delicate?
Yet delicate things aren’t old?
Quantum entanglement
What’s constantly entangled?
Time, surely?
No, that’s just tangled.
Delicacy is, entwined tangles.
Delicacy is, constantly aware.
Awareness of meeting it’s match.
Time, that constant match.
Wait…age, you’ll meet your match.
Stop…life, no time to catch.
‘If’, I think, is the beginning of all journeys.
If a choice exists,
for you to take,
regardless,
of the one you’ve taken.
It’s true that you have taken,
a journey to frustration.
You have no choice,
as to where you’ve travelled.
You have no choice,
becomes unravelled.
Presented choice,
devoid of substance.
I’m substance of,
what will be travelled.
Travelled substance
presented choice,
knows it’s direction
is obvious.
The obvious,
seen regardless.
Despite of all
scenarios.
So choose, despite the obvious
and see, that being curious,
is IF, all over again.
It only matters if I’m looking.
Close my eyes, just me, nothing.
Sometimes, I feel my eyes burning.
They have control that they aren’t yearning.
If I close my eyes, the things they would see, still happen.
Things, without my eyes piercing.
Things, not knowing my eyes be looking.
Having not pierced those things, they be, undetected. Those thoughts continue, undisturbed and unaffected.
And being, having not been affected, to the world, I beckon.
Waiting for attention.
One day a year, that’s all you get.
My age in days, in all my time.
Beyond your years, ’tis with regret,
would take to give you, one of mine.
This might seem like a cunning plan,
to escape my obligation.
But I conclude – it’s rude to cram,
my thanks in finite occupation.
I think my thanks can more be known,
by drawing from the years we’ve spent.
Instead of the thanks you think I’ve shown,
think of the things our time has lent.
Considering this reality,
one day of thanks’ absurdity.
Serves only a calamity,
to undisturbed affinity.
What’s greater still, than both our years,
is this Earth still endures.
And with it lives, transcends our fears,
that thanks endured, secure.
The point of zero is where time and gravity equal zero. We always travel towards where time is less, assuming this results in ageing less.
But time and age are not the same. Age increases as time decreases.
So what we must really want, is to gain in age in lesser time.
When time and mass equal each other – there’s infinite age and zero time.
Yet it’s living things that aim to escape zero time, the consequence needing time.
Charity is, a characteristic,
peceived beyond realistic.
Becomes the personality,
with power in reality.
Charity, the characteristic,
prevails in those who risk it.
It’s pascal’s Wager, wins always,
for charity, for happy days.
But charity, that characteristic,
is born from life’s statistic.
As sure as we’re to suffer,
well, charity is our lover.
See when you suffer,
you create, the joy of charity.
And should you find yourself at peace,
’tis not long ’til, some poor soul weeps.
An idea is the perfect form of the thing it relates to by virtue of its limitations within its truth. This is the pure idea, how it exists theoretically and in isolation.
A true idealist can only be a realist in reality. The idea inevitably unravels within the vastness of other infinitely perfect ideas. It is only when it does not unravel, are you a realist.
Am I Weird? 