Only but a few things, atrocious in their nature, are beyond adulteration, beyond the grace of cute misinterpretation. Of all is the adulteration of “Beyond”, herself. Humanly, she is adulterated as Beyonce; but I joke a ridiculous joke as this is not the point.

She, “ Beyond”, generally, has been adulterated as “past” from “most”. In this sense we ascribe her transcendence to Time, shunning Space. Especially in with the case of the immaterial. An immaterial said to be “beyond” is mostly said to transcend in time.

Time is considered infinite; as the infinitesimal praises the spec, as cogs praise the wheel and as tire tracks hallow roads. A transcendence (an existence like ours posited far beyond our perceptive capacities) in this domain is placed therefore in eternity, the home of the procrastinator.

Space, on the other hand, would bellow—with passion in its certainty—that “beyond” encompasses, and it’s neither “then” nor “when”, but now! Masters of old had tried to show this to us but due to the limitation of a highly fragmented language and a culture entrenched in segregated linguistics, we are necessarily blind to this concept.

In this misunderstanding, we have evolved to adore falsity and bow at its feet.

However! Thus, hitherto, has “Beyond” masked her self from us. Henceforth shall she be understood: as the under-face of her mask—as neither this Space nor that Time, and vice versa, but the dance of the concept which births both.

The Black Hole

I learned from the Black Hole, a little something. These are words from the Black Hole’s Pupil as seen by the Pupil’s Black Hole about The Pupil and the Black Hole. Yet another comparison which shows the Uniformitarianist nature of the world. And a little hint that your body may contain some space junk, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it but admire.

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Repetition for Emphasis

That’s as far as my acknowledgment section goes.
There is something about this tweet which damned my thoughts onto eternity of contemplation and the like. Shortly before this eternity was complete, the link became apparent. It has to be the case that we need eternity at some point, to understand, because things have to make sense everything is rational—even to the irrationals. Thanks to the metaphors which shape our world.

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Time waits for no man!

Woman maybe?

Okay, that’s just sexist!

But seriously…

This was part of a tweet that plunged my, rather paracurious, mind into a crazy conversation with itself. One it would not let go even after countless attempts to ostracize itself from. And yes, if you are reading this, this post is dedicated to you: for constructing a tweet so profound you forced my defenseless mind into trying to dismember its intricacies. Time well wasted.

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Bringer of Rain

Blessed be the ambiance.
The peace and initial calm.
That moody silence.
That torment in peace.

Blessed noises blowing minds into unfathomable smithereens; fathoming the little stuff.
The same noises to which Tornado slaves for.
“Collect broken minds and coagulate smithereens at infinity into a dot!”
Yes, noisy master 😒

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Burn, phoenix!

The best that never was

Holding on to a false!
Hope that truth loves

The sun, forms.

Such control is in the human, such awe

A reality born of masterpiece
Burning master’s pieces

Peace is in pieces while pisces stick together…. Please!


Human and its appended -ity holds much awe
A masterpiece that never was.