Information received by the optic nerve is always interpreted as light. The trifecta of seeing involves the external reality, which is a series of waves and particles, the retina’s absorption of said material and the mind’s interpretation, which is what we call “the world.” The world secretly thought by a woman dreaming and dead. The fact that we are able to coexist in an interpreted reality that each of us perceives as completely unique means at some fundamental level, consciousness must not be subject to any separation. My dreaming is your dreaming as the truth of reality is no more than vibration and light.
And when was the last time you felt a particular aversion or attachment to light waves or photon particles or neutrinos? How else to make the narrative of the felt world go than to create a mind that could take all of that input and create a new program full of graphics so complex, we might actually forget it is all manufactured.
The actual statistical chances of meeting the people you need to meet in this world to grow and learn on your path is astronomical because of the number of beings on this planet, so it is either true that every one you meet is meant to change you exactly as they do in their entanglement or that the universe is exact and you only meet exactly who you need to entangle with or as Schrödinger, tells: reality is a dead and a live cat at all possible moments.
I’m not advocating for specialized love here, as much as I am saying one can recognize the intricacy of the maze they are within without becoming enamored of the walls. I would rather love be continually warehoused in the body of the poem, in the makeshift of art where upon the cave walls we have thrown our shadows and believed in our dancing selves. The play of life should remain as such and can you see it around you always, so tell me too, how did we transform these naughty angels and better yet, tell me how we want to transform again into natures of light….
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