Level 7 - Loquacious
Join Date: Apr 2012
to the surface of the sphere,
I communicate with the distant core. . .
of thermal swells,
and gamma-ray bursts.
I touch the walls of my being,
fully plugged in,
I'm a highly-conductive contact point
for the God's meditative mudra. . .
moving thru myriad matrices and mandalas of materialized minds.
I feel like. . .
the raging electric arc of the ever-present now,
the jumping point from the past to the future,
roaring dutifully into the void.
I sense. . .
the enantiomeric presence
of compatible lights and shadows beyond the membrane. . .
the impression of my vitruvian-stretched hands
ionically bound to surface area of some other. . .
I feel as if . . .
My structure and stability
is the skeleton and scaffolding of countless quantum spheres
strung together and expanding in every direction
As if . . .
I am preventing the collapse of the cosmos. . .
not through strength. . . but through serenity.
The topography of my soul
jaggedly juts out the partition
between my side and the other. . .
creating a three-dimensional relief
like a Pinscreen toy plotting a portrait of my psyche. . .
projecting up and out, into the otherside. . .
like my mind is the mountain upon which God hikes,
in order to intimately know every nook and cranny. . .
I'm merely a palpable protuberance
upon which some other is laying like a weighted blanket. . .
Conforming to my being, a key and lock conformation. . .
A liquid imprint, a negative mold of my mind
for the otherside to intimately know.
Waiting for those rare moments when,
the contour of a face emerges
a shouting signal erupts
from the liquid yang around me. . .
bulging deeply and sending stirring shockwaves
into my simple, searching yin.
For this is when, although darkly, I do truly see through.
Say hello to my frontal lobe.
Last edited by wisefool; 02-20-2023 at 10:45 PM..