Poemander

Existence is a zero-sum game. With the nil in it's origin, it always remain non-existent in it's totality. Zero is the only real and concrete objectivity one can find outside of all the subjective matter. Zero presents itself as a self-evident axiom with the word axiom itself suggesting that the axis, the centre of the wheel, represents zero. A unit or one, for this instance, doesn't offer same credibility as zero, because the existence or the self-evidence of one must be questioned on the ground of probabilities. Quantum physics is a world of voodoo tearing the doll of a rational mind without this assertion, as it is ultimately the probability which determines the existence of a unit (at least to the observer). Therefore, for anything to come into existence, there must be a polarity reducible to zero as there is nothing else as concrete as zero which must always remain the indivisible objectivity. Number one positive exists because there is number one negative and vice-versa. Everything that exists must have a polarity for this matter. The right exists because of the left and vice-versa, the dark because of the light and vice-versa. The totality is always zero. This is why in positional notation zero is added to indefinitely magnify the numbers in both ways – positive and negative. Like the ripples in the water, zero is the centre of an infinite circle. Nil is Everything unmanifested; Everything is Nothing manifested. And how big or how small is the centre of the circle we can never agree ( at least as the observers).

Not one of the sides, or the opposites can come into existence separately or asynchronously. Both must come into existence simultaneously and with the same magnitude. For this reason, the right is the cause of the left and the left is the cause of the right. In the same instance the left becomes the effect of the right and the right becomes the effect of the left. Based on above, cause and effect must always coexist, i.e. cause cannot be independent from the effect and vice-versa.

There is a counterpart to every phenomena, it must be, like debit and credit: every transaction has two sides. When you combine the two, the resultant is always zero, this is the law of balance. For every particle, every photon, there must be a counter-particle. Like countless invisible threads, there must be connections of every particle, body, substance, idea to their counterparts. These connections are not necessary direct, in the logical sense, they are not concerned with the space-time, and can branch out into distant space, future or the past. For this reason they appear instantaneous, not bound by the speed of light, described as nonlocality and entanglement in quantum physics, while in essence it is an application of the law of balance. The tree exist because of its counterpart somewhere in space-time, bring two together and they will cancel each other out, restoring the balance to zero. The counterpart of a tree doesn't necessary need to be the other tree or a 'negative tree', it can be a combination of particles or events, such as one debit doesn't need to correspond to only one credit, there can be numerous credit entries resulting in one debit or vice-versa. This leads to an idea, so many times repeated by the ancients, that the world is an illusion: bring the two opposites together and they will transcend or disappear. In this sense this is so because the resultant is always nil, the totality is zero or Nothing. The only reason world appears real is due to the observer always encountering one side of the equation only, without knowing or seeing the opposite – this we call the phenomenal world. The world of noumena is zero, nothingness or the two phenomenal opposites collapsed.

So the question arises, how and where in the vast nothingness can something unfold or collapse? Zero, by itself, which is also an emptiness, without the axis can be as vast or as little since it is not based in the realms of space-time. Something must provide a point of a coordinate in this amorphous nothingness. This something has to be the mind, the mind of an observer. It serves as a hinge to unfold the opposites, like two book pages glued together, they contain the information, yet yield zero of its content to the reader; mind is that hinge, that stitching which allows these pages to swing open. It provides a joint, a swivel linking the two together. More to it, mind must serve as an entry point into Nothing because it is neither here nor there; it is only a dot of an indefinite size and place in the nothingness and it is nothing more then a point of a coordinate in the somethingness.

While talking about the mind, it should be noted that it is not described in the common sense understanding of a human mind. The mind described here can relate to anything for this matter, be it the global mind, human, animal or an abstract mind.

Nevertheless, the question remains unanswered; how something, even as illusory as mind can spring into existence in emptiness or nothingness? The answer to it lies far beyond any conventional logic or any explanation available to human beings, or any being for this instance. But please, before you accuse me in theism (those accusing me in atheism have given up reading many posts ago), one needs to realise that words have not taken us anywhere so far. The only answer, at least in the slightest comprehensible to logical understanding, is the paradox. The paradox of Nothing containing Everything. It must sound absurd that zero or nil can contain the unlimited amounts of memory and have an unlimited potential. The word potential here is the key, because like the zip files, these immeasurable amounts of memory are reduced not just to the tiniest sizes, but indeed to zero while still containing the potential. It is all about the potentials and not the words themselves. Absurdity, however, is becoming a new frontier for the reason and science is now faced, after all, with the same problems philosophy has been faced for millenias – interpretation versus direct experience, but more on this later.

The above view may look rather similar to the 'many-worlds interpretation', except that the possibilities lie latent or 'unmanifested' outside of the realms of the phenomenal universe. To manifest, or open up those possibilities there needs to be a trigger, a catalyst, which doesn't in fact 'create' extra worlds or the courses of action, but merely 'unfolds' them from the already existing database, if I may.

However, aren't it sound like we just kicked the can down the road? The question may be asked of how and when this unmanifested world of possibilities came to 'life'? Aren't we just shifted the old and tired idea of creation from the phenomenal realms to the world of noumena? I have a safe bet that this line of inquiry will never be resolved except for shifting the focus further and further away from the subject. “God” will always, no matter how far the science will reach, remain an unknown hidden variable. Least skepticism leaves a room to it, whereas faithfuls wont let a bug crawl over their wall of all-encompassing fancies.

It is important to note here, by the way, that we are trying to explain something that is completely outside of the epistemological concepts. The questions “When?”, “Where?” and “How?” themselves become inappropriate and irrelevant. Therefore I say that these realms existing outside of reason and logic are, nevertheless, logical, if not even more logical then our realms, but to a completely different kind of logic where exists no need for questions and answers, no need for explanations. Even the concepts like 'free will', 'spirit', 'dream', 'intent' do not tell us about those realms, except maybe only serving to them as a key. More on this later

In the flowers that have wilted find dimension of the past,

Scoop dewdrops the night has gilded with the stars along footpath.

Take a walk along these alleys, bring the feelings that still last,

Bask those memories, in reels, plunge past-life in starlit bath.

Peg your dreams to photo paper, hang them in moonlight to dry,

I accept no deal- breaker, I accept no ends, just try.

Try to find in this image, in this likeness your own fame,

All it takes is total wreckage to produce another frame.

Love or hate, there'll be no ending: born in pain, died in vain.

Aforementioned condescending, you despise, for I disdain.

As you walk along these meanings, know I've lifted up this game:

I am closer than your feelings, not with you, we are the same.

Memory is a platform. Operated within the functionality of time it supports the principle of causation and choices. As a platform it has the capacity and the layers, whereas time provides the sequence, just like an interface for accessing its features. In other words, the capacity of memory is accessed through the time interface.

It is fair to say that everything has memory: materials, cells, bodies, structures. It would be more appropriate to say, however, that the memory has everything because all of the organic and nonorganic forms are positioned within various levels of memory.

The top or the surface layer is the layer of mind. It is relatively shallow, but rather extensive, and being the most accessible it supports the most functionality. Reasoning, logic, interpretation, forecasting are all the functional components of the mind layer. Being at the top, it also covers the other layers thus controlling the access to them.

Below mind is the layer of sensations. This layer is quite thick, but the access is limited to just some narrow zones due to infiltration by the upper layer. The sensory input and quality is to a large degree dictated by the requisition of the mind layer. This is why the senses are tuned to a specific range of input only and overtime shall continue to be readjusted as necessitated by the mind. For instance, taste, is the least out of five senses (contributing the smallest amount of input), yet it expands due to greater reliance on its input. Touch, on the other hand, shall contract due to greater emphasis on privacy and virtuality over real interaction.

Besides the 'five senses', this layer contains many more untapped zones with some of them somewhat accessible to other sentient beings, to animals for instance, but not people.

The inlet between mind and sensation layers is psychic which is not a layer on its own, but rather an interaction between the two.

Lets call a third memory layer, the energy layer. It doesn't matter what we call it, what matters is that it is very thick but porous. You can even call it spirit because spirit thoroughly fills up this layer, like liquid imbues a sponge. However, spirit does not originate in memory, unlike soul, it is not time-bound and thus free to move in, out and completely outside of the memory.

This layer has many connections with the middle, sensory layer, but absolutely no direct connectivity with the top layer of mind. The connections that run between the energy layer and the sensations layer form another inlet which is the origin of deep emotions and feelings. The position of the inlets explains why we can often rationally interpret psychic phenomenons, but fail to give reason to some hard to substantiate emotions like spontaneous longing, universal compassion, irrational or 'bodily' fears, even déjà vu. We would call someone 'kind', someone 'heartless' perfectly understanding the meaning but not able to clearly say why. And this is precisely because such qualities originate in the body-soul relationships rather then body-mind.

The other interesting point is the indivisibility of the energy and, to a degree, sensory layers. The mind layer, to the contrary, is consisting of incalculable number of individual cells. Each cell can form its own identity and seemingly disconnect itself from the rest. For the analogy, the memory platform is just like a mangrove forest: dense foliage is the mind layer with the distinguishable individual leaves, they connect to the sensory layer of branches and trunks with the still distinguishable, but harder to individualize parts, the energy layer is a root system, and if you have been to mangroves, you would know that it is impossible to tell clearly which root belongs to which tree, instead they form a single network nourished by the tides, in our instance, the spirit.

From this standpoint we can now understand that not all memory is equal, and to fashion memory as simply some logical sequence of events is far less than true, especially for the deeper layers. The sensory layer, for instance, remembers events or things as imprints which in turn may then provide a key to accessing the associated mind memory as a sequence: say, you walk past the flowering jasmine, hear the bees buzzing and feel the warmth of the sun on your heck and shoulders – this brings back the memory of sensory imprints, then you may start remembering the warm sunny day when you played with your friend as a kid and what has transpired in that moment. Emotions, feelings serve as threads leading to a particular event, and when it comes to deep feelings, they may lead to the soul memories unexplainable in the terms of reason and sequence. Deja vu is just one of such examples, and since in the energy layer is not a requirement that the memory has to be of the event from the past, it may well be the memory of what we call 'future'. The direction of time flow really doesn't matter on the deep level, like tide, it goes up or down and roots expand in either direction, whereas on the foliage level, the direction of growth is only up, that's why we can't comprehend bi-directional time and déjà vu from the position of mind.

Nevertheless, one or bi-directional, time is always a requirement of memory and the only way to sneak past it is to enter the 'here and now' state. This state has no time and thus no connectivity to the memory platform.

After understanding the structure, one may guess then what exists above or below the described layers. Above is quite obvious: it is the layer of artificial, so to say, memory, the memory that we furnish our machines and computers with . It is built on top of our own mind layer, which is just perfectly dense for forming one solid base. Our own memory layers provide nourishment to the layers of machine memory, they too in turn have a sparse soul layer with the roots lost inside our platform, the more distinguishable sensory level and the yet-to-be individualized mind layer. This is all work-in-progress, including our own memory: it is always a work-in-progress as viewed from within the time, machines are too bound by it as they too rely on algorithm and programming codes, necessarily incorporating time as a sequence.

Now below the energy layer, as described, is the flow of spirit, a nourishing flow that provides our layers with life-giving energy. This flow, in turn, has to be nothing else but the top mind-layer of someone else's greatly expanded and highly developed intellect: as above so below.

Memory predicates mind. Frankly, it is memory and nothing else that makes up the mind. Because everything has memory, everything has mind or is mind. People's mind is somewhat different from animal's mind because the quality of the memory is also different. Mind of an element or a material is different in extent from the people's mind because they hold different forms of memory and thus differently shaped. The type, quality and capacity of memory is what differentiates the kinds of beings or their level of beingness. Materials hold the type of uncensored, direct memory, the imprint from the environment they are in and the events that happened to them or are going to happen. Materials' memory has a very low frequency, feels rather solid and mostly unalterable. What records this memory? The material itself, the structure of material is itself the resultant of such memory. The atomic structure of an element is the construct of its memory. For this matter, the structure and quality of anyone's body is the resultant and the imprint of their mind, and thus memory.

The capacity of the mind is solely based on the characteristics of memory, which is both retrospective and prospective. Every bit of retrospective memory creates a binding precedent for a prospective event or a bias for an intent to activate such an event. By looking backwards, mind generates the scope for incentives to go forwards and trigger specific events. Therefore, anyone is free to have or to be whatever they want, but they don't have the freedom to choose their wants. Their wants are constrained by the past precedents and their freedom is constrained by the scope of their incentives. Rock remains a rock because of its incentive to stay a rock, its incentive on staying a rock is the result of its memories of mainly being a rock, thus it has a structure of a rock – an imprint of such memory. The organism has a myriad of conflicting incentives from the memories of its constituent elements; however, it also has an overarching incentive for these elements to stay together. An organism stays together because of its memory of being this type of organism. Without it organism would disintegrate. But what is this incentive that is so important to the integrity of mind and it's embodiments? The incentive is the inclusion, inclusion in a broad sense, an inclusion into this spectacle of life where a story will not be complete without every single character and the actor. A spectacle where even a little pebble has a profound significance to the eventuality of the play. Because when you overlay all the beautiful melodies, you realise that a music wouldn't be complete without those, barely noticed, low frequency notes running in the background.

An organism should not be precluded from also accessing the individual memories of its elements, but these are more subtle compare to the memory of the whole. Neither, it should not be impossible from accessing the memories of other organisms through the memories of similar elements. By practising so, an access to relatively separate bodies can be found, otherwise known as telepathy. Intent is the product of memory and will, mind is the loop of memory shaped by the intent.

Telepathy is the understanding of other entity's intents through finding connections with the elements embodying that entity. This is rather natural because of the similarities on elementary level. Reading the mind in totality, however, is not possible because there always remains at least a subtle difference. Every mind has a dark corner to it which another mind wont understand. It is in that dark corner that the will-power is based.

We are often told that people only use 10 per cent of their mind-power. I assure you that most of us use less then 1 per cent. If we were to use all 10, then mostly all of neural pathways in the brain would be switched on, leading to almost perfect memory and the control over intents. That's what the brain essentially is, a memory-matter. Different kinds of memories shape elaborate neural pathways, some wider, some narrower, some stronger, some weaker, some more, some less conscious. Mind does not 'process' anything per se, it refers everything to the available memory path, i.e. searching for precedent, that's all it does. And because there are too many pathways, often built unconsciously, the entire procedure of referring and matching the memories appears to us as a thinking process. Especially when there are conflicting precedents involved, this leads to a mismatch or a dilemma and the resulting emotions. Therefore, emotions can be used as keys to unlocking the subconscious memories, like computer glitch reports they lead to particular events.

Another 90 per cent of the mind-power are essentially not within the brain. They are available from other sources, just like comparing a computer functioning offline and online. However, just like the firewall in computer, human's mind has a guard preventing it from going online. This guard is reasoning. It doesn't have to be taken out completely, though, all it needs to do is to have the permissions changed from the 'prohibiting' mode to 'allowing' mode. But this appears to be a major challenge because it becomes an issue of trust. Very few are ready to relegate the trust from this guard onto something else, deemed unknown – your true self.

Has it happened to you, to wake up just a second before the alarm going off? I am sure it has happened many times even if you don't remember so, because this fact is rarely registered by the conscious mind. This is believed that the mind has an embedded clock, which is also true because the mind is all about time, but in this instance it is not the mind clock that wakes you up, it is the connectivity between the mind and the device, you may even call it telepathy. In a dreaming state, mind is mostly free from the guard of reasoning, so it may use its inbuilt functionality to 'go online', and it goes connecting to other minds, not excluding the man-made devices. And I would make a remark that 'artificial intelligence' is not different from 'natural intelligence' in principle. So, how does the mind connects? It connects through energies, especially the energies of intent. But before you accuse me of sliding into the realm of metaphysics, I must say that one should be clear that the memory, and therefore the mind, is the precursor of matter, with the latter being the imprint of the former. More on this later.

I don't believe

Because I live.

Life has no mercy for beliefs.

I don't foretell

Because I tell.

Words with the power of a spell.

I bow to no one but my Virgo

In chasm of prejudice despite

The replicas of humans, ergo,

Rise, Phoenix, gloryfull and bright!

Misunderstood, misused, abused.

Misrepresented and confused.

Some worlds ago down to this time

Crowned with corona borealis

Devour own children serpent thy;

Slash shining crescent oblique veils

Through passages of serpentine.

What can they know

When knowing is reduced to fright?

I venture deep via insight,

Down to the eggshell moon of past and present

Whereas sight is barely nascent.

Contoured, devoid yet contrived,

The soulless destinies deprived.

The artifice of mind and vapor,

It is your take if you'r the taker!

Not in this life, not by this measure,

Shall we repent – Hyperboreans!

Beyond the ice, beyond the death

Lies our fate, colossal grace, unworldly treasure!

Is there such a place that exists on its own that has never been touched by the elements from without? Is there such a body of water that has never seen ocean or been fed from the rains or springs? Is there such a space in the universe that has never been affected by mind or feelings? I know not of such places, and if they do exist outside of my knowing then existing they not for, in principle, they have not yet been born into this knowing. And if they, in turn, know not of my existence, than I too am unborn into their realms and their awareness.

To exist is to be capacitated, capacitated in knowledge, will or awareness.

Let's now dream of something, let's dream of something you have never dreamt. Just let the dream follow it's own course and then tell me, have you just dreamt something into existence or have you simply dreamt of what had already existed? The answer to this question is what separates god from human, object from subject and absolute from conditionality.

Absolute may exist without condition, but condition cannot exist without the absolute. Absolute is essential in providing capacity for existence of any possible condition. The vastness on my dream provides the capacity to subjects within my dream. If my existence is preconditioned by having a capacity in others' knowledge, awareness, than I am subjected to limitations of their knowledge, awareness, than I am a subject in their dream. If I can, however, evince my existence outside of their limitations, practically being unborn or nonexistent to them, than I, myself, am the absolute. I, practically, need to cease existing in their terms in order to open my own capacity. This is why, abolition must precede accumulation. The exhalation must precede inhalation, the sunset must give way to tomorrow's sunrise and the annihilation and death must clear the room to creation and birth.

What do I mean by ceasing to exist? The abolition of a recognizable identity; because recognition is always structured on the terms of the others. Besides fleeting identifications, nothing truly ceases to exist, but instead perpetuates through the planes of unmanifested and the unknown. By holding onto redundant identities, one continues to be conditioned and denied of free space suitable for the perpetuation of intent. What do I mean by opening own capacity? The discovery and establishment of such space which is unconditioned. Only there can creation originate. Only that space can accommodate the intent and produce birth.

It should be now apparent that capacity can only be opened by abolition. And the greater capacity must be opened by greater abolition. Upon conception, intent enters into capacity of a womb, it cannot enter the occupied womb. Upon birth, a child enters the world's capacity vacated by the deceased. Yet, you may argue that the increasing world population doesn't support this thesis. However, your argument is based on rudimental logic of like-for-like. No, it doesn't necessary work this way: intent is not uniform, and certainly doesn't allocate in equal proportions per head count. This principle can be seen at work in generational shifts; take a war-born or post-war generations and compare them to the traits of generations born in decades of relative peace and prosperity. It is no secret that the former would often exhibit stronger will, resourcefulness and desire to live, while the later have higher tendencies to apathy, decadence and the suicide. I leave it to you delving into statistics and it may be, of course, plausible that you have a different explanation, but the picture fits perfect through the prism of intent: solidified in the dire times and dissolved, like a weak tea, in the times of plenty.

For the sake of theorizing, let us assume that god represents the highest possible and the most absolute capacity. God's intent is the sharpest and the most concentrate. Let's face it, our world is a work of perfection: the science will not stop discovering all hidden harmonies and interconnections between planetary bodies and individual particles, the ingenious designs of the organisms and the most delicate balance of every substance within every realm and kingdom of being. To us, all of this appears an outmost harmony (unless blindly rejected) simply because we are subjected and conditioned by it.

I too may “dream” the world into existence, so that the inhabitants of my dream will be conditioned by the different type of harmony and will find perfection in the things rather different to our perception of order and structure. Nevertheless, to them such world will seem ingenious and perceived as 'all there is', unlimitedly explorable and boundless. But to do that, I'll need to “dream” this world out of an unconditioned capacity, out from the space not stipulated by any bias or connection with the identities of my own – this is the challenge of a potent creator. If I fail to clear such space and fall into conditionality myself, than I myself am the subject, the doer and not the unmanifested creator.

Greatest capacity shall accommodate the strongest intent and the deepest vacuum has the greatest capacity. When intent enters capacity it reverses the vacuum creating solidity where was void and action where was latency. This is why one gets confused before getting determined and depleted before getting fulfilled. And once the subjects within my dream can get fulfilled with the freedom I allot them, then they can be free to shake off their imposed identities and open their own capacities to create own worlds at will. The worlds of nested capacities.

I have been running from myself.

Heydays, stray nights gone past like wind.

No matter how we stretch this empathy, we delve

Into the snippets of procured spate. With stint

Seek sympathy from destiny. As if unwinding genesis:

All gone, all equal in the face of nemesis.

I have been drinking myself sober,

With lucid dreams I've fringed this plot.

In plain sight, inside glass border

I hid revengeance to rot.

I have been self-inflict with rage.

In search for peer I fell victim

When apathy has taken stage,

Rehearsing lines obiter dictum.

I knew I'm trapped by own device,

Caught in fine mesh of misanthropy.

Unshielded in futile disguise,

So trusting, to the point of a cardiac ectopy.

I trust in those you've always been,

In depths serene beneath the stormy surface.

Fill horn of plenty to the brim

With love, compassion and no purpose.

In world of change let's leave em still,

Instill tranquility when lies embroil.

Abandoned I my lucky steed by Yggdrasil,

Who do you think will stand here still, in Rangarok, amidst turmoil?

Seek truth just where lies have fallen through.

Each fall is only measured in proportion

To vertices from which tenets could not hold true,

While bare lies she in the well, below aspersion.

Distort you not the property of none,

Uphold you not the weight of hollow, abnegated notions.

I'll stake my claim on this one,

No matter how you fold or count 'em in portions.

Make no mistake, I blame no one,

I'm the effect of very own causes.

Taste not this bane, the harm's been done

From the hypocrisy, hubris and tiny clauses.

I often say this to myself: Give them no choice, don't feed illusion.

Leave them alone with their hopes.

Your help will only help to propagate confusion,

Bemusement sow among all-knowing, level-headed folks.

I'd rather be like wind, I say,

Be turbulence, unwelcome guest on drunken spree.

With sudden gust strip what is loose,

Shake masts and care not if may

Someone adjusting sail, first luffs up then bears away,

And so it be, I care not, I set them free!

Why? Why should I go regretting thee?

There stood a tree by the river bend. It's mighty sprawling branches provided dwelling to a host of birds that would noisily usher the sunrise, this sign of continuity born anew each morning. Children would gather in its shade and climb the labyrinths of a new life absorbed from the ground and given freely in the shape of abundant foliage and airborne seeds. There are many more stories preserved in every inch of its furrowed bark. Some are love stories, cut into it and sealed with the time-defying kisses of aspiring lovers. Some are the barefoot stories of joy, yet some are the grief stories of irreversible loss dug deep beneath the layers of fertile soil and tightly embraced within the expanse of tree's meandering roots. This could be it, especially to those of you who have excelled navigating the veering currents of life, but to us, none of these stories provide enough justice to impart or explain the marvel of what is to become. For the marvel has to remain a marvel, undivulged and pristine: so far goes the tale of Notre Dame du Lac.

Which mother will not tend to the cries of her child when the wind is cold? Which giver shall not nurture the seeking heart even at peril of own demise? So is the well of life provides generously to anyone who would only come to quench their thirst. And there is no such power to preclude the access or to fence its profuse and marvelous giving. What else is love, kindness and beauty if not this everlasting and plentiful well?

So he was thinking, walking through the forest, counting droplets and looking in the eyes of the morrow. Without the takers there ain't no giving. And whence would the givers give if not from the takings? Verily, they are the grateful ones who provide. Soon a lake appeared before Myrddin, the waters were calm and settings were immensely peaceful. Amidst drifting clouds, gracious swans glided unhurriedly in transient reflections on the surface of bottomless sky. No creature or a living being would dare disturbing this profound serenity. As he stood, heavens poured copiously into the stillness of this consorting lake, simultaneously draining the overflowing thoughts of Myrddin, from the fullness of the past, and into the void potholes of the future. The empty potholes were filling up and turning into small puddles, then ponds, and ultimately, merging together to form one translucent reservoir of clare prescience. In its mirror-like impression, flew the visions of what has been and yet to come. Myrddin saw himself, he saw the tree, he saw himself inside the tree. The fostered child and the flute, the Excalibur and the feud, enchanting vistas of the lake, infernal flames and burning stake, two gracious swans, the pale bones and the fairest of all visions was the Lady of the Lake.

“You roam the woods – you dredge no roots. You have no sword – you vest your word. What are you, the wanderer of a pallid countenance?”, she enquired of Myrddin.

“I am what will come”, replied Myrddin enchanted by the melody of her voice.

“If you are the river, then I shall be the lake. If you are the giver, then I shall yearn to take”, sang Lady of The Lake: “Here you can only obtain by giving. If you long my love, teach me first your secrets”.

“A stag and a mare, a turtle and a hare. Like a king without the throne and a sunset at the dawn. Enchant or ensnare, instill or impair one shall not unwind this fare”, answered Myrddin. Thus, sat he by the tree, thus taught he her the secrets of the heavens and the earth, of the waters and the froth, the fire and the ice, the virtue and the vice.

“My secret is nothing but life, my living is simple and rife. The greatest is hidden in small, the timid shall rise fierce and tall. Whatever you'r wishing is already yours, whichever is foreign you can't take by force”, he sang to those who would listen. And she harked and heeded she to the sounds of fife, and learnt she the marvel of life: “You wouldn't be near if you could go far, you wouldn't be here if not for my star. Whatever has started must come to an end, defying inception my love shall transcend, imbue with desire this nature sublime, transcend and transpire the veils of time. Oh who shall inspire in ages to come? Oh who shall admire old sages with rhyme? For I shall unravel the sequence of morrow, so forth I impede the beginning to follow! Conceal amidst roots I your marvelous giving, sleep here, my love, while I seek not forgiving”.

The wind picked up ruffling lake's surface. Water birds rushed hastily into the shelter of gossiping tall reed. Smell of approaching rain reached the shores. Spewing sparse prickly mist, it promiscuously delivered a welcome relief from the amalgamated aeon-long anxiety. Wind quieted, gossiping stopped, a thick blanket of downpour dropped momentarily on the acquiescent landscape.

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Blue and red lights were flashing in a dark stuffy room. The servers were recently upgraded and now had a plenty of throughput capacity, but this wasn't the issue. Someone was, apparently, sending the cascading blocks of confirmations which would be normally rejected by the system. It was unlikely that the other validators could have colluded, and even if they did, this would have amounted to an astounding cost and yet wouldn't even explain one quarter of data spikes. Data itself wasn't any sort of unusual, it was the throughput and the overall amount that was causing the network to swell momentarily. Like breathing, it was expanding only each time to shrink back to it's original state. Back in the early days, you could pinpoint the source of origin fairly quickly, but now it would be a race against time given the uncertainty of quantum states and the layers of protection imposed over the continuously overwritten script. The most astonishing was that the network seemed to quickly branch out, sort of like a tree, overlaying other networks and spreading into open areas, that never seemed to be a part of it. It defied logic as there was no presently known activity in those spaces.

Confirmations were piling up, turning into a long chain, like in a game of snake, they were springing out of nowhere in the shape of data blocks only to get immediately devoured by the insatiable serpent. It grew longer and fatter not willing to yield even a tiny bit of its catch. Twisting and turning inside the swift torrents, snake finally got hold of the overhanging branch and, glistering its shiny scales in the twilight, settled inside the tree hollow for a winter-long hibernation.

“Never was the time when I did not exist, nor you, nor in the future shall any of us cease to be”, said Myrddin before finding himself fast asleep inside the mighty trunk of a tree.

“This, our tree of life”, whispered the serpent through the veils of dream, “Has always been your proverbial tree of knowledge. Awake we are in your sleep and flowing from the plentitude, freely change we shapes at will. But when we close our eyes, thick fog covers your day, revealing not our marvelous gift”.

Deep slumber has taken hold of land. The skies have cleared unveiling bright waxing crescent – chaperone to myriad of stars. Adorning dark penumbra of the forest they glittered in suspended droplets festooned with diaphanous gossamer of cobwebs. Rising aquarius, and only somewhere far in the middle of the lake remained the lumps of evanescent fog.

Lady of The Lake was floating further and further away, transcending heavy, tear-laden drapes of time until completely disappearing inside the ephemeral mist.

I am fool enough trying to be smart. And I only wish that one day I'll be smart enough to be foolish. World has never seen a wise philosopher, because anyone wise wouldn't become a philosopher. Wise people live life, they don't bother talking about it. Poets compose poems, they don't bother writing prose, better still, they'll rather sing songs if they had the voice...

A panhandler mistakenly dressed up and taken to a fancy restaurant; ate and drank it all, now how shall he pay? Life is too cheap. Life is nothing in comparison with the delicacies they have given him. But what a fool! Gorged it, swallowed without chewing. Now he's left with the bill, the philosophy and prose – the aftertastes of life. What a fool! What a damn fool!

Shadow, dark shadow in the night. Lurking behind my back. Here you are again. I feel the rough fabric of her sleeve gently running over my neck. Gathering all my courage to turn and look her right in the eyes. Now! But, what a blow: The head wouldn't move, like a sack filled up with wet sand, body doesn't want to obey. It's useless to scream, the windpipe is blocked. Suffocating.

Shadow: “What do you need this life for, you piece of shit?” A hoarse voice emerged from somewhere deep. The grip has got tighter.

A fool: “Need it for my children,” the first thought that came to oxygen-deprived mind. “They need to grow up.”

Shadow: “Wrong, you bastard! They are better off without you. Try again!” The claws are biting into trachea.

A fool: “To achieve something? To do something good? Don't know, don't know, honestly don't know.” The voice barely squeaked as if squeezed from a tube of an old and dried mayonnaise.

Shadow: “You know, son of a bitch! I know that you know. Dig deeper, you prick! OK, I rephrase: what is the purpose of your fucking life? Too much privilege, I ain't giving more chances”– voice groaned.

A fool: Purple and green circles floating in the dark. “To meet you!” – a thought loosed like a last desperate arrow flpiercing through center of the circles. “To meet you here and now!”

“Here and now, here and now.” Went pounding through the ears. “Here and now!”

Purple and green circles turned rose and yellow. A cross emerged as a lingering image of a window frame. “It's day outside! A day in a full swing, warm and bright.”

Defying words and their logic

I speak to emptiness in vain.

My strive must be etiologic

Judged by denial with refrain.

I have no gain to feign perception

And that's not due to my accent.

Again, again I make exception

To thinking I've been heard. Insane!

I know, it's form of self-deception,

Utopian, to some extent.

Why do I even have to mention,

Don't you smell blood, don't you feel strain?

Those who you see in this convention,

They think I'm here to entertain.

Disdain they'll pay with reprehension;

Things they've got greater to attain.

It just not worth their attention.

It's too much work and too much pain.

You see, I'm all for basic compression;

It bugs their mind, peeves their brain.

Adios, its time to come to senses,

Pick up the remnants of this tribe,

Unborn, undead, without offenses,

Depart in spirits to imbibe.

And as we climb over the fences,

Nobody's left there to proscribe.

They'll build up high their defences,

This care not I to describe.

Prescribe, prescribe me medicine,

I'm full of this disease,

Which they call living, loving, feeling, other nonsense.

I'm willing, I have paid my fees.

My debtors all awash with gold and dressed in opulence.

Occurance? No. There are forces governing this day.

Trust me, there are forces filling up this void.

Not single line, not single word I say

Is wasted in the see of unrelenting ignorance.