Behind words, beyond the doubt, A passing thought like transient cloud. Have not you seen a seed to sprout In asylum of dreams decay?

We're here stranded by the day. By night we dwell beyond Horizon Lost, in the sands without realising, The subtlety of words we say.

And thus I utter, go and find, Within the spheres, search throughout, Amidst the clutter and old spells, A verse which brought us here to stay.

Same verse shall get the ties unbound Healing Prometheus's wound. Forgiveness is the price to pay - Those daring not to break away.

No, there is no pride or sorrow In limiting this fate. Tomorrow Casts the broadest net Abundant is his catch – regret.

Forget you shall and yet you'll follow, This tiny voice inside the hollow. On stumbling feet Have not you sobbed the night away In asylum of dreams decay?

Give me my bow and three arrows,

Lay them by my side when I die.

Don't dress me in suite, don't read sermons,

Need not I confess or comply.

I'll walk past the lines of the prayers,

Nocking my arrow in gate.

I won't throw a glimpse at betrayers,

Shoot first in the wind to hit fate.

Loosed second, transfixing the darkness,

Strikes wakeless with thundering bolt.

Know well, I arrived, but didn't come artless,

By forging the dreams to behold.

The upshot shall fly through the passage,

It'll break through the veils of time.

Send forth my piercing embassage,

Fiery heartfelt, blue valentine.

What chance do I stand, my trusted reader, what chance do I stand against this marvelous force? What odds do I have at accomplishing a strenuous task bequeathed to me as if in the act of mockery and derision? I should admit, dearly, that I'm failing, failing miserably at this undertaking.

How to traverse the uncharted waters where the sight of shores is far more evanescent than some distant dream, and the bearings provided by the learned ones are not less ephemeral than the clusters of fog in the open seas?

Such were the thoughts, my confidant, the thoughts that came and went like tidal waves leaving exposed this drained and barren reality of belonging from which I cannot escape, neither afloat, nor sinking. And where would I go even if I had the maps, the compass and all the gear? I would want to get lost instead, drift, be carried by the current rather, being able not to tell up from down and the East from the West. But none of this appears to be within my possibilities; no more can I pretend, no more can I elude or procrastinate. And it has no difference that the task has never been revealed to me, nor have I been given the slightest idea of what is required and which direction to head. “Forget, forget”, the sound of gentle waves would whisper to me, “let go and dissolve, dissolve in us, we accept...”.

I would not be surprised if you go on saying that I have taken upon myself what I shouldn't have, that the struggles of mine are self-imposed and the worries are overinflated, and I wouldn't be able to argue: what material proof do I have in support of my claims – none! My task has no valid substance, no mapped location and cannot be subjected to reliable measurement, yet it sits there as concrete as bedrock covered by miles-thick antediluvian waters, submerged deep beneath the currents of everyday affairs and barely touched by the torrents of the worldly life as we know it. And what can I expect when we are all taught to stay afloat before we ever consider the abyss beneath us and dare to notice the vertiginous quintessence of the firmament. So are our units of measure and the milestones: not dissimilar to navigational usefulness of the froth in the high seas.

My attempt is petty and trivial, the task, however, is insurmountable. Yes, it weights on me, weights with the mass of condensed silence, always there, looming like an unfinished theorem: inapplicable yet grandiose. Do you have the words to describe silence, do you know the colors that can paint emptiness? At times I come very close, I feel the breath of an inexplicable, begin distinguishing the colors of the dark and hear the silent melodies... You can duly equate this with madness and thus elegantly complete the unfinished theorem, and this is the beauty of it: irrationality expands the reality to the uncountable infinite continuum just like the one described in a flash of genius by Georg Cantor. But this is the whole issue, this is the exact issue I am having with all of you, past, present and future: misunderstanding.

Since when understanding became an accomplishment, since when we mistook proof for a fact? And if I can't present valid proofs of my own, what proofs you, yourself have, say of your own existence?

My task is beyond proof, beyond validation. Sorry, Georg, but the infinite uncountable set is empty: thats what you have indirectly proven but few understood. Can we now stop pretending to hypothetically count the hypothetical members of the hypothetical sets? Reality is irrational and the reality of the real numbers is made of irrational numbers. “Almost all”, I hear someone correcting me! Now stop where you are, infinity doesn't know 'almost', infinity is 'all', and if an infinite part is 'all', then the whole is also 'all'! There is no hypothetical point on a hypothetical line, and this is what irrational numbers show without further proof. There is no point of fixation neither in numbers nor in existence. All we deal and dealt with is the semantic consistency, consistency of a point of view over a point of view over a point of view. Take any integer, or better natural number, no you can't, because there ain't no number, it is only a consistency, a matter of unified opinion. I applaud ancient Greeks for doubting that one is at all a number. So, can 0.999 be 1? what about 1.001? How about the infinite decimal expansion of those two? How close will they come to number 1? And will there be any 'space' at all left for our glorious numerals after all? Even our trusted mathematics is an ephemeral concept devised over a concrete task of continuity. All numbers are an infinite interpolation of an empty set. Numbers interpolate the abstract ideas from the zero far-ends and into the infinite continuum of the center. Several ancient languages, especially the derivatives of Aramaic, are written in sinistroverse (right to left) likely for this matter. But even more likely, most ancient languages were first written in symbols arranged in multidirectional circles, like, say, mandala or Tzolk'in wheel, then squares, take 'sator square' until later becoming boustrophedon (bi-directional or snaking) as found in old manuscripts. When did we flip? When did we begin substitution of concrete for abstract and abstract for concrete? Remember, emptiness has the shape of a boundless sphere. We simply don't have anything more objective than that. Nothing is more unbiased and concrete than the empty set. The fact that emptiness cannot be measured translates into its greatest quality: unprovability. Every point of coordinate, every line, edge or angle is only an abstract and can only be measured in relation to some other abstraction in order to be “provable”. Emptiness, in contrast is objective and is not “provable” based on concepts of abstract. An empty vessel/container can be “proved” and “measured” against other vessel, but not the emptiness inside the vessel. Even if you can measure the degree of emptiness, it is only measuring the inclusions and not the emptiness per se.

Thus we now appear with you on crossroads, my fellow traveller, but trust, these crossroads are just a plot of imagination, an abstract concept, semantic consistency, so to say. There is hardly any intersection in the plane of objective reality; the roads there go in circles, and are not likely to lead anywhere at all to begin with. Put it simply: movement is not necessary if the center is indistinguishable from the fringe. That is what the infinity of an empty set is. Emptiness is truly infinite.

So, set a point, plant a flag rather, let's make it point zero; from here and so forth shall all distances be measured! How grandiose, yet nothing is accomplished. Someone else is needed to endorse your claim: it takes at least the two to validate the one. Be honest to yourself, your coordinate makes no sense all by itself: a pointless zero in the endless sea of void. But don't be saddened by this fact, there are still a few tricks at your disposal; go on make a step. Now you have a point two. Success, this will have proved your point one and vice versa. Both validated in one go! How great, you also have a measure and in fact a line. Hence, movement is itself a proof, a tool of validation. No wonder someone has proclaimed: “Life is movement!”.

Any abstraction requires a passage or a movement between A and B, which are otherwise indistinguishable from each-other. The word 'abstract' itself means to 'draw off' implying a starting point and the prescribed direction. This passage is here a 'validating' vector, a proper genesis of an abstract, a definition of subject from the otherwise undefinable object. Hence distance and duration are the definitions of an abstract. Object requires none of these as it's validating mechanisms. It is self-validated with any distance and duration being equal to zero. The direction is only towards or from the abstract, other than that, objectivity is directionless.

Infinity, on the other hand, cannot be abstract, since it don't have a departure point or a starting coordinate – the prerequisite of abstract. By elimination, the infinity thus must be axiomatic, objective and concrete. An abstract vector can be extended to infinity, but it cannot 'begin' from the infinite even though it originates 'in' the infinite (and remains there).

If we consider two opposite rays abstracted from the common coordinate and forming an infinite line, a dimeter of a boundless circle. The line is a subject since it is 'abstracted' and can be 'measured', i.e. direction; the circle has to be the object since it is there 'by itself' and is not capable of measurement. Don't get confused, the diameter 'defines' and 'relates' to the circle's circumference and its area but it is not the same as being measured and being proven. The diameter doesn't “measure” the circle, instead it is the circle that provides the scope to measuring and abstracting of anything in relation to its bounds. You can look at my friends, relatives and 'define' who I am, but this doesn't prove who I really am. Definition hardly goes beyond opinion and opinion is only a matter of consistency, with another opinion. Therefore, there isn't any plausible way of squaring a circle as there is no way of proving the object with the subject, concrete with abstract. You do have better chances of squaring the circle outside of Euclidian geometry, but not until you completely move away from the subject-driven realms and into the pure object geometry to which circle duly belongs.

See it for yourself:

Being 'boundless' this circle has no specific center, any point along the diameter can serve as a center, neither the size of the center any longer matters and a center can potentially be infinitely large, as large as the circle itself, or infinitely small, nor the location of the center matters any more. Therefore, the infinite circle 'fits' inside the zero center as well as the zero center 'expands' to the infinity of the circle. Does this not mean that the vastness of infinity is inherently empty? If zero is empty, than the infinity has to be empty, or if infinity is 'full' than zero has to be 'full'. Which one you choose, up to you, but let's conclude: infinity=zero, and zero is measureless. Being measureless is being objective, thus infinity is non-abstract.

e^(pi*i)+1=0 How beautiful! Like a flower unwrapping its petals amidst swamping marshes. A pure music. I imagine Euler walking along with Pythagoras, oh how much in common they see inside this equation! Yet, one tiny bit still disturbs wise Pythagoras, still boggles his mind: this “+1” has to be wrong, out of place, out of tunne.

Function is the mathematical interpretation of movement. Exponential, a non linear function is the movement from/to an abstract as seen by the outside observer. It is in essence a rotational impulse, however not completely circular: it is a rounding elliptical ever approaching circular if from the abstract or a flattening elliptical if moving towards the abstract. Euler's identity shown above is a 'pure' circular rotation outside of abstract .

E constant is the time interpolation of object, pi is the space interpolation of object, i, the imaginary number, the unrealized dimension, dark matter acting from outside space-time. Bring the exponential of time to the power of space (Space cedes the power to Time as we also know from the Uranus-Cronus metaphor) multiplied by the imaginary number and you have a steady rate of circular rotation. An imaginary number ensures a continuous 90degree push towards the center thus countering the otherwise exponentially increasing escape velocity (or preventing the pure object from grossing in to matter of the subject, preventing the manifestation so to say) and allowing the movement to proceed steadily in a perfect circle: Musica Universalis as the brazen serpent would have called it. +1 is the abstract of our world, the motion and the act without which the beauty of the entire existence would remain unrevealed, ever whirling in the pristine domain of the un-manifested object. +1 is the breakout, a daring of a seed to protrude and grow into a mighty oak, it is life as we know it.

So what is continuum? Continuum is a circular vector of object-subject-object, or concrete-abstract-concrete, ever bridging the two. The only reason, sine qua non for a continuum is subject or the abstract, i.e. the world of numbers, the world of ideas and representations. Pure object is directionless, distance-less, so no continuum, no movement, where to go then? Into abstract, as the only way. Why at all bother? Because there is a face in the emptiness, there is a mind in the object looking for exit. And after it has searched the infinity it failed to establish its own omniscience. No, absolute is further than infinity, beyond reach. Rightly, to know everything is to know nothing.

Aye, do you even know how profoundly depressing it feels: to search and discover, to play knowing the outcome? The last thing that was left is to create a 'different' game, a game where you'll pretend to really play it, to really search and to really find. Dismantle – gather – reestablish, this is the scenario of this game. Repeat until nothing makes sense, until order becomes chaos and chaos becomes a new order. Forget and remember, remember and forget. Recycle memories like rags, until they turn into ethereal dreams solidifying back into ideas, take material shapes... Proceed, create, amalgamate! Heat, boil and evaporate. Split, join, join and split. Condense the steam from sunlight beam: this process is alchemist's dream.

Make no mistake, the ultimate collateral on all debts is freedom. As long as one perpetuates the account keeping, there is no debt jubilee, no breaking of bondage. The collateral can be masked by another kind of superstructure, but make no mistake: debts do not get forgiven as long as they are not forgotten. Account keeping is a mechanism to prevent just that. Ancient Sumerians kept their accounts, nothing changed since. Throughout the history we worked hard to making the debts seem less personal, but don't be delusioned: debts as well as money is always a personal matter. The decree of clean slate was and is only symbolical because nobody has the power to erase debts, not even the kings. Kings are bonded not less than their slaves by the same account keeping. The symbolism of a clean slate is in substituting the forgiveness for forgetting.

Only nature, call it god, superpowers if you wish, have the ability to wipe off the debts. This is done by a total collapse and eradication.

When it comes to the governments, they don't have the powers to cancel the debts, instead, they will replace one type of superstructure with the other; one type of slavery with another, seemingly even less personal. This is why they made a Bitcoin, that is why we have dlt as a triple entry accounting record.

Remember, the one who is free is the one who doesn't keep the accounts.

И нас не смущали ни волны, ни ветер.

Не ждали нас здесь, никто и не встретил.

Так вот мы ушли, слегка несуразно;

Как если бы жили, как если напрасно.

Лишь с неба нам вслед звезды мерцали.

Мы в воду глядели, мы плакать не стали.

Быть может нам время без толку дается;

Надежда уходит, тоска остается.

А сердце стучит, предательски бьется.

Будто бы снова, будто бы просто,

Присесть на минутку, так взять и проститься,

Сказать – не сказать, обняться, умыться

Сухими слезами, что горло щекотят.

Нет, нам там не место, нас там не просят.

Пусть ночь наизнанку, мы ветром несомы,

Мы смотрим сквозь пальцы, ни с кем не знакомы.

И где же, и где же та синяя птица?

Быть может случайно водицы напиться

Примкнет вдруг к оконцу, в стекло постучится.

И неужели все это не снится,

Вот только никто не откроет и не изявится:

Изсохла давно в этом крае криница.

Ну что же, увидимся, если случится,

Лети восвояси, залетная птица!

I saw her tears through the water

In depths of Tiamat.

She cried the tears of her daughter

In depths of Tiamat.

How soft and soothing were these tears

In depths of Tiamat.

No words, no jealousy, no fears

In depths of Tiamat.

What is the shape to something which is shapeless and what is the form to something that is ever-forming, but never totally formed? Shape is what river banks are to a stream: a conduit to the flow of the shapeless. Do the river banks form a stream or does the stream form the river banks? Both are ever-forming because neither the stream has a shape nor the banks have a purpose while on their own. So while the conduit's purpose is to accommodate the shapeless, the purpose of the shapeless is to ever-evolve through the ever- forming conduits. This is the process of self-discovery ordained by the absolute: the ultimate, yet never accomplished destination for both, the shape and the shapeless. If every stream, every drop of water is in continuous pursuit of the ocean, than every shape is in continuous pursuit of a single ultimate shape – the boundless circle. This is witnessed in the principles of entropy – the effects from the pursuit of the shapeless. Every physical body is in the midst of such process, dispersing into the absolute and only held shaped by the shapeless stream of intent and it's manifested twin, will. Intent shapes and re-shapes the bodies, like the stream recurves the riverbanks. And upon drying up, the intent only disappears to emerge in a different shape leaving the previous shell empty and stifled, now fully subjected to the powers of entropy.

Bad is that painter who cannot reveal the colours yet unseeing; bad is that musician who cannot produce a note so intimate, that it resonates underneath the skin.

Parented by boredom and desperation, any creative art is an act of aggression. It is an urge, it is a killing, it is nothing but disturbance to the profound silence of existence. Giving birth to an art piece is akin giving birth to a living being; the moment something is born – it is destined to die, in the process of dying from the first second in existence. And this process of dying we call life. Therefore, to create something is to force it from the world of unmanifested ideas, violently, into the world of beingness. Creation is derogatory; it is a process of degeneration, the process of coercing the omnipotence and omnipresence of the universe through the narrow funnel of will, condensing aether into clay.

Leonardo da Vinci famously declared that he is at fault before the mankind for his work not reaching the quality it should have. If so, then what about all our little dealings we call art? And I don't think that it was da Vinci's perfectionism. It was his realisation that creation is at best the ugly sister of Uncreated. Look at modern art – this is violence and decadence, but who's at fault? No one, it is just a growing realization of our own uselessness. A mid-age crisis. Anyone?

But let me be done with this rant, let me accept that we'll do what we do anyways, always, despite the collateral damage. So what is art to us, beings striving for self-realisation, approval, a kind of self-worth if I may?

Art is the manifestation of will. The transformation of impressions as they define the reality of perception. An artist is someone who has his/her own perception capable of shifting between the impressions.

To humans, there are four primary forms of art: music, dance, visual arts and poetry. Other arts are either practical crafts or are the combinations/extensions of these four. Each art is tied to a corresponding sense: dance to smell, music to sight, visual arts to hearing and poetry to touch. Taste is an inferior sense in humans and is loosely tied to creative writing, which is not really art by all means, as it involves different cognitive mechanisms incomparable to the four primary arts. Writing requires a thought process, or a process of infiltration by the mind which is harmful to the point of rendering arts being unauthentic. Four primary arts are most authentic when unhindered by the mind.

Dance is the most primitive and the most powerful; it relies on sense of smell which is itself the first and the most ancient. Mind has almost no control over the sense of smell and thus leaves it wild and untamed, so is the dance.

Music is the form, it is the biggest of them all as it represents the structure of the cosmos. Music relies on sight because the musician must be able to “see” the forms and translate them into sound. Note, that the concept of senses is used here in a cognitive context rather then physical faculty. Therefore, the world has known great musicians who were deprived of the physical faculty of sight, nevertheless, their cognitive processes related to sight still remained supreme or even exceeded those of the sighted.

Visual arts is a “frozen” music; therefore, a painter has a “sensitive ear” and is inspired by music. Again, a painter may be deaf, but the cognitive processes related to hearing are dominant.

A poet is the one who stands in both worlds, he/she is capable of touching the unknown and translating it into words. The touch is the most “bodily” sense, it brings you into this world, but the poet cannot settle in either world: has to always travel across the bridge, which is his/her talent and well as a curse.

The true skill of artist is at avoiding the traps of concepts. There is no shortage of ideas. Once fallen into them, artist becomes a craftsman at best or otherwise just a charlatan. In its purest form, art, has no utility and this gives it the authenticity. The delivery is more important than the idea. Idea or concept turns art into staple. Craft has utility and thus requires an idea, this makes the whole difference; art can only be related to an idea but not created by it.

I watched how people carry themselves, I liked to observe how they carry the shape of them. On the bus, in the subway, on the streets, at work. I asked myself, what am I doing here? I didn't know, I thought I was wasting time while others do stuff. I saw people taking animal shapes and animals acting like humans. They bleated and quacked, I listened. Some people looked as if they were made of rubber, others of wood, walls had faces. I watched myself watching them and I asked myself – who is watching? I didn't know, I couldn't think. I began to notice one thing though, there was a gap. A gap between them and their shapes. I watched my hands, there was a gap between them and myself. The gap sometimes started to widen, first slowly, then faster, until the frantic expansion taking the whole space, up to the point when there was nothing but the gap and this piercing silence...

Other times the gap narrowed, dwindling exponentially until there was no space between the shapes and the objects, all jumbled together into a screeching mass, smaller then the point of a needle lancing my eardrums.

I looked in the mirror, there was nobody with the eyes of you looking at myself. I didn't know that I saw the gap, I thought that I saw you and you – me. I asked myself if I was here, or was it someone else. There was an issue with it, however, – I couldn't say what is 'here'. So, another question has grown into a big bubble ready to burst: “Here is where?”.

Moving along the damp corridor I saw nothing and only the strong smell of mould would suggest that I was approaching some kind of a passageway. Indeed, I discovered a staircase, probably leading into the basement, I couldn't tell for sure though, as at this moment I completely relinquished every last bit of certainty. The guitar string suddenly snapped and writing her name in the sky I went down in a free fall – out into nothing.

I was still asleep when I heard deep rumbling breaths, there was a tiger in the other corner of the room. He looked at me as I froze in fright. His eyes were shallow, the eyes of a beast. Unable to move I lay in awe. An enormous squeal come up to my throat but only materialised in a hoarse whisper as if there was a cotton ball stuffed down the windpipe. So long since I first started to feel presence, a continuous perturbing presence of someone behind my back. In the back seat of my car, behind the wall. I lived with it preparing for the end, like rehearsing a play, I stood each time looking right in the eye... This time was different, the fright was real. Tiger was ready to pounce. Three, two, one... At once, it all collapsed in my head – a house of playing cards! As if strings of a sibylline musical instrument, the light filaments filled up the room. They vibrated with inexplicable harmonies unfurling up in the air the mesmerising geometries of colour. The gap opened and with a great magnetising force the eyes of the tiger sparkled pulling me into their bottomless crevasses. From their depths I looked out and saw a person lying in the other corner. No he wasn't me, I wasn't him – I was the tiger!

The need for state and government is transitory. Both play the same role as a pair of crutches for a crippled. Some would rather see same analogy with the baby walkers, but to me, this period is long gone and it just happened that no memory exists of that time.

Whichever way, they are a necessity when one cannot walk on his own, but will become a burden upon full recovery. The crutch is made to suit person's own height, weight and fitness. So, neither the government, nor the state can be bigger or smaller than ourselves, for if they are, a trouble will it be for us to move if standing at all. Where the length of a crutch is measured in inches, the size of the state and the government is measured in liberties. Liberty, a social freedom – a reflection of public consciousness, and the consciousness is our only guide in this world.

Government should not regulate the affairs of it's citizens, or any of whatsoever called classes of citizens, instead government should ensure and uphold fairness in dealings through the rigorous defense of the uniform measurements.

All governments, in theory, exist solely for this purpose: uphold the trust in fair exchange.