In the between of infinite realities, the bugs have their existence. The clarity of their world embraced the resilience of form, placing it at the apex beyond the necessary. There, nothing is before. When thought cristalizes, becoming reason, the catalyst is that place, dappling minds with the faintest of warmth.
The detritus of minds, born of fear, confusion, hatred, sustains these beings. As they feed on the shit of conception they are unheeded by the particular, not constricted by place.
With the first mind came the bugs, and by their necessity there shall not be a last. The predicament of the mind is to yearn for a truth that avoids definition as time and space avoid detection, if it is not indeed the same. Minds reach for the reflection, only ever coming as close as far.
I didn't mean to seem to claim that you did. I was just making it more visible for the rest of the BBS since you aren't yet registered in our meridion system. Thank you for sharing. . . . Interesting.
In the between of infinite realities, the bugs have their existence. The clarity of their world embraced the resilience of form, placing it at the apex beyond the necessary. There, nothing is before. When thought cristalizes, becoming reason, the catalyst is that place, dappling minds with the faintest of warmth.
The detritus of minds, born of fear, confusion, hatred, sustains these beings. As they feed on the shit of conception they are unheeded by the particular, not constricted by place.
With the first mind came the bugs, and by their necessity there shall not be a last. The predicament of the mind is to yearn for a truth that avoids definition as time and space avoid detection, if it is not indeed the same. Minds reach for the reflection, only ever coming as close as far.
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