Level 7 - Loquacious
Join Date: Apr 2012
Quantum Identity Crisis
The Uninterrupted Rejoice of a White Hot Mess Throwing Away Its Falseness in the Above and Below
Both the physical and the psychological worlds that we live in
infinitely structured matrices
of polygonal fields of energetic interconnectivity.
of microscopic material substances
that we navigate upon
like a kid
in an endless topography of sand;
between the psychic presences created
by our consciousnesses and physical bodies.
A magical interplay of energy and matter that is so infinitely complex; yet, simultaneously, so absolutely subtle.
We exist within a searing,
strung upon a infinite string of pearly, energetic concentrations of matter;
ever-expanding into a web of chaotic,
that is laid upon
a deeply subtle and dark space-time.
Itís an infinite zoom into a macroscopic mandelbrot set
of spherically symmetric spacetimes saturated
with chaotically dynamic interactions
of microscopically macroscopic quanta
that attract, repel, interconnect, ionize, and neutralize each other;
The constant propagation of energy
swelling, and searing
through an infinite web of electro-magnetic nodes;
creating this tidal wave of consciousness that is flooding thru a matrix
of geometrically mirrored omni-gons of perception.
Electrified communication packets
into an infinite plinko-pegboard
connecting, collaborating, and creating
the holographic screen
upon which our kaleidoscope of experiential phenomena is manifested.
Each plinko peg
is a cymbal,
the shamanic drum,
a wind chime,
the bell and gong
that sends endless reverberations
into its surrounding atmosphere.
this infinitely compounded mandelbrot multiplex
of physical and psychological phenomena
can be zoomed into or out of
This movement creates the perception of time.
An extra blink,
A deep breath,
and a void.
An endless geometrically and semantically slithering
through this torus tube tunnel of being.
We are the multi-dimensional forms emerging from this cosmic pinscreen of matter.
Winding Cycles of linear loops,
Gravitational spirals of time
by the siren's call
by the horizon's eyes
by mandala's guise. . .
Still, Calm, and Silent. . ..
Hovering in unspecific directions,
being showered by the cosmos with chaos.
Patiently Awaiting our final, uninterrupted rejoice.
Say hello to my frontal lobe.