float through my mind as if it too were a void...
random thoughts that mix and stir...
combine and separate with the precision of a chef
as mental cuisines are prepared on which to feast,
entertaining what could or will be rather than
what is or is not currently going on...
mental tapestries of hope and despair
forged like power rings into dominant action
written down but no action taken...
journeys through underground tunnels
a metaphor for cosmic gravitational waves
permeating the continuum of our universe,
not a watchdog but as a participant whose
activities are contingent upon its warping,
subsequent re-alignment and singularities,
Previous millennia and eons have passed by
leaving us absorbed, wrapped in afterbirth, not
caring if our lives revolve inside a solar system
or a galaxy, or if we exist in this universe, or
another one that is not that different...
As perplexing as it seems, it is also irrelevant,
correlated with all that has come before, we are
destined to repeat history in such a way that
Our destiny is just a grain of life's sand
and the box in which we play with life daily.
September 9, 2025
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