quinta-feira, 29 de dezembro de 2022

The windows of the world


What if the eyes are just windows gazing outside creating time, space, movement, flowers, cats, hats? All there is is just a footage being created by that machine. Each lifetime is just one of many realities created inside that mind. Dreams are just memories of the last incarnation.

An ancestral thought, realities in frames changing in speed that's independent of space-time. They're either bidimensional cards being shuffled or a long tridimensional tube like a connected system of consecutive measures of pipes.

The eyes that observe everything are reality itself. A reality that either doesn't last a bit or lasts forever. In consecutive and infinite clouds of realities. The primordial thought, seen by these eyes as a drop of mercury in the immensity of nothing, expands like amoeba as it changes form crawling like a creepy worm. That thought can even curl on itself creating like twisted pillars of secondary realities that are just distortions of space-time of the main reality. Micro drops of mercury are bursted out of the main mass like in a volcano. Those distortions or micro drops are thoughts. A thought inside a thought. That's the universe! So simple and yet so complex. Either everything or nothing.

Hell and heaven 


Hell and heaven are the same. They're just two dimensions of the multiverse coexisting. And we can feel them both here. Here is where they meet each other. It's like light and darkness share the same space and time. And yet they don't mix up. They're still perceived as different and separate things. If you completely extinguish darkness, you're in heaven. And vice-versa. Hell is lack of purpose. A life without a purpose is an eternal torture where time doesn't pass by. Everything is at a standstill. Nothing that happens has a consequence. No situation leads to another. Everything is independent and nothing happens with a purpose. The wind of sense doesn't blow. There's no happiness and no sadness. All there is is a lack of feelings. A lack of everything. Everything is like nothing and nothing is quite whole. Nothing really bothers you, but nothing makes sense either. It's like you just don't exist at all. Hell is lack of existence. It's death being alive. Demons are just dead angels being alive in the eternal stillness of nothing. If life has no purpose, we're trapped in our own demons. Just embrace the nonsense of life and you'll be able to befriend darkness. Don't be afraid of it. It's just part of you and will always keep you company. Accept this hell you live in.

In my senseless life, I'm proud of nothing and regret nowt.

There are two kinds of people in the world: the lucky ones who enjoy solitude and are happy and the ones who need love and are very unhappy.

Sometimes I feel like I'm sinking in the ocean, but then I realise Atlantis wouldn't be this famous if it hadn't sunk.

 All that's close together is also very far away. Look at the night sky and you'll see conglomerates of stars twinkling together. They seem happy as they look very close to one another. But, if you look closer, you'll realise they're actually lightyears away. No matter how close to you I am, it'll always feel like we're far, far apart.

sexta-feira, 23 de dezembro de 2022

 Lies


It's maybe all lies. Life is full of lies. But what do I care? Love is a lie that first comes to us in the shape of fairy tales. It's stupid if you think of it. But everything is relative. Stupidity is relative. Even absolute stupidity may be relative. If love is a lie, lies are superior to the truth. If love is a lie, I want to be lied to. The best things in life are lies and I'm not bothered. Every lie can be a truth if you believe hard enough.

 Just thoughts


Thoughts in my head. And I can't get rid of them. Are they good or bad? Are they helping or prejudicial? Are they enlightening or confusing? Or rather is confusion enlightening? Or is enlightenment confusing? Just questions. Do they have answers? I don't know. I haven't been enlightened about it. We are constantly thinking about the sense of life. But why? Why do we need to address a sense to everything? What is a sense? Life is empty, unless you're ignorant enough to feel it full.

 Sweet love of mine,


I'm sorry for not finding you. But I'd like you to know that I've never stopped looking for you. I spent my whole life thinking of you. I've looked for you in the whole world. And I've never stopped loving you. And will never do. I'll love you for the eternity. Even though I never found you. Even though I never met you. Even though our eyes have never crossed. I promise I'll keep trying to reach you in the afterlife. Forever. And I know I'll never find you. But I'll keep trying. Because that's the only thing that gives sense to my life. Why would I live or why would I die if not for you?


With love,

Your unknown lover.

 Sight of the heart


The dew on the rose petals. Teardrop in my eye. The cold and the darkness of the night bring vitality to the flower and strength to my feelings. Sad feelings getting stronger. The rose is happy with the breeze, but my heart is stone cold. My thoughts are spread by the freezing wind like the withered leaves. They're all over the place. My emotions are as dead as the litter. The moon is up there, shining its white beauty in the deep black of the night. My eyes can see it, but my dying heart can't feel it. The composition of nature is perfect, but only when it can touch the heart through the eyes. A closed heart can't feel what the eyes can see.

Unwholly


A man is born whole, but maturity makes him incomplete, until he finds his other half. Happiness only exists in wholeness, and it's so pleasing to be able to be whole alone. But once your heart is broken, and break it will, you can't be self dependent anymore, and the silver brightness of the moon will inevitably bring sorrow to a single pair of eyes.

 Humanity


The difference between men and animals is that animals are able to just exist. There's no past and no future, just present. And all they have to do is live the present, with no regrets from the past and no goals for the future. That's happiness.

 Real love


Love is not real if your self doesn't extend to the other person.

A sunset is not real if watched alone.

The moonlight can't touch me if not through your touch.

Me and you, we're one. Me alone, it's just a soulless body.

quinta-feira, 8 de dezembro de 2022

 Universo sem filtro


Deixa-me prosar. Passarei a contar como é realmente o universo. Como Deus o vê. Como os seres sobrenaturais o veem. É um universo sem filtro. Tudo que há se vê. Não há limitação de existência nem de sentidos para se detectar o que se há. Nada está escondido. Tudo se explicita aos sentidos do observador. Tudo é palpável. Sentido por sentidos que nunca sonharíamos em imaginar. Sem o filtro dos cinco sentidos. Sem o fardo que é o corpo material, que torna translúcida a alma que doutra forma seria transparente. As dimensões não são três só, nem quatro, nem mil. São infinitas. Tudo que no nosso conhecimento é limitado, na verdade é infinito. Limitada é a nossa capacidade de assimilá-lo.

O universo tem um som de fundo. Um som que se apresenta na maneira que a matéria deforma o espaço-tempo. Um som que está em constante melodia, formada pela movimentação e mutação do que se há. Uma música infinita soando no infinito. Soando para nenhum ouvido ouvir. Soando sem se utilizar de ondas sonoras. Porque os sentidos são apenas formas diferentes de se perceber o mundo. Tudo que se ouve, pode-se ver. Tudo que se apalpa e se sente pode ser ouvido. O ondular da água escorrendo em uma pedra, o balanço da areia à mercê do vento ou da maré, a irregularidade do relevo, tudo pode ser sentido em ondas sonoras. É tudo música. O universo é música. A chuva seria-nos uma melodia grandiosa se pudéssemos ouvir de forma separada e reconhecível a ressonância de cada pingo em cada superfície diferente.

Como Einstein previu, tudo é relativo. Um montinho de terra é exatamente igual a uma montanha. A diferença é quanto zoom foi aplicado. Tudo depende de que olhos estão olhando. A diferença não está nas coisas e sim no tamanho do observador. Uma formiga é do mesmo tamanho de um hipopótamo e um besouro tem as medidas de um automóvel. O arco-íris pode ser palpado e sentido como gelatina imersa na água, mas também pode ser visto como uma estreita faixa no céu que leva a potes de ouro, um sonho distante e impalpável.

Existe felicidade em tudo que se sente, e sente-se mais do que se tem consciência. Tudo o que há pode ser sentido: as fibras musculares se contraindo, o sangue se movimentando nos vasos sanguíneos, os líquidos dos tecidos sofrendo osmose. Só não temos sentido para sentir tudo isso. Temos um filtro que nos limita a quase zero. O ser que não possui esse filtro não consegue sequer imaginar quão restritos são nossos sentidos. Apenas percebemos uma fração insignificante do que é o universo. As coisas podem ser percebidas com todos os infinitos sentidos em todos os níveis de aproximação no microscópio do universo. Ele é muito mais infinito do que imaginamos. Infinitas vezes.

Viajando na imensidão do espaço-tempo, ouço a imagem das supernovas como se fosse um barítono em uma melodia infinita ou foguetes se explodindo ao longe, nos horizontes indefiníveis do universo. Um show pirotécnico de sons que não ouvimos e cores que não vemos. O ar só não tem cor porque nossa visão é incapaz de captar o tipo de onda emitida ou refletida pelas moléculas. Em universos paralelos, os sentidos percebidos por nós devem estar em outra faixa, incompreensíveis para nós neste universo. Se essas faixas não se sobrepõem, um universo paralelo pode não ter nada que se assemelha com o que há neste. Claro, segundo a nossa percepção.