the silence tugs at me, surprisingly, it makes me wait reactionless and motionless. in here, in my unintended here where I have made sure there is nothing much able to reach me for probably good reasons. I’ll be good, but the silence is a little distance outside time.
dry hay stings in my eyes as the fields in my mental landscape are ravaged by a neural storm
the remnant of the alternate time-branch in which I managed to pick up the call
to move away
and build a new life, and I don’t understand
who I was then and how I came back to be me
but I don’t give it much thought anymore
the silence is just a step on the gentle way of picking out and forgiving me for my own humanity.
– Reports claiming consciousness to exist have exhibited severe confirmation bias –
in a natural world, everything is on its proper place from the proper perspective.
The stormy seas are not yet calm. And when the storms cease, the calm is only a temporary station on the road of time, passing to fit in another storm; this is life, and it’s ravaging and graceful