Epic Poem / Short Story

Variety is the spice of space-time. Transformation is to time as variety is to space. Even stainless steel will rust. Every color is a different shade of light.

In other words, everything is karma and projection. Karma is another way of saying transformation and projection is the naked city of seven billion dreams.

Some transformations are transcendent and burn themselves in memory all the way to DNA. One dream becomes the current lightning and the rest are reincarnated in the thunder of my dreamtime.

Use a fine line when writing stories. Use a medium if embolding consciousness as primal being. There is no point for self-awareness. That's basically the whole point.

The stink of skunk is
First smell of spring—just one sniff
And I'm everything

There's something about
Rock-bound mountains overlooking
An infinite sea

Here are the chapters to date. Variety in space. Transformation in time. Karma as transformation. Projecting a variety of dreams.

Transcendent DNA. Reincarnating dreamtime. Stories, consciousness, self-awareness. The smell of memory. The feeling of place.

The fact that nothing is truly known is the proof of that God, the great unknown.

The fact that all I empirically know is that I am, is proof I am that Great Unknown.

a small body cries!
and consciousness surrenders
and forgets itself