The ciphers of life
are a pretty strange thing
in the sense
that for the plebs
they’re invisible.
But
to the mystics
poets
and madmen
they sing.
The latter drowns
the former
swims
and the one in the mid
takes notes for the rest
as he acts as a translator
for higher consciousness.
Everything has a language
from the way animals connect
to how ants just seem to know
how many of the team to send
to pick up that leaf
and such things.
Do you ever wonder about such things
my friend?
I do
at length.
Some say this is a coping mech
par excellence:
“You’re just watching life
instead of living it”
state the well adjusted
to such immense sickness.
Maybe they have a point
or I could be correct.
Who cares
in the end
for we all dig
our own reality tunnel
yes?
Conceptual frameworks bring
lines for us to color within
but the question is this:
What do they keep hid?
Who designed the sketch?
With what intent?
If you look at the world
how it is
it becomes Self evident
that there is power
which wishes to sit
right in the middle of your iris
as the apple
pre-bit
sings:
And she well.
Exit: Humans.
Enter: Techno Sapiens.
Another cipher
decoded
like the children of the cloud
who aren’t born yet
or the ones who still live
off grid
and refused to acquiesce
to the new order of the ages.
Even that has a precedent
for
back when
they did not accept
the songs of the heavens
which moved toward lead
as base as it can get.
This is the uptick.
Thirteen K of hallucinations
collective
coming soon
to this realm…
The ciphers of life are a strange thing
for they tell the adept
what time it is
where they’re at
and where they’re hearting.
Note
not head
there is a reason
in Kemet
they binned this bit
and preserved the rest
but even that day is dead
as folks decoded not
their monuments which
back when
had the outer etched
with all types of things
we call Knowledge…
Its all good though
thats part of the sketch
hence why they built
as they knew the res would dip
like youtube saying:
“Two Forty Ps is all thee gets!“
as people learn to accept.
Then
in a few gens
they upgrade to HD
and people marvel at the technology
when
in reality
the bandwidth was always present
but official script said differently
hence
instead of an app
with limits etched in
they sent you to school
to sit still
look ahead
and do well on the test
as you decode at a lower res.
The schizo flips from that
to holotech
and can’t make sense
of the extra dimensions present
or those pesky machine elves
whereas the mystic dips
uplifts
doesn’t sink but swims
with a Knowing grin
for
with the Ledge
he is best friends.
The poet looks
at a series of lone pics
that are still immense in res
but easier to comprehend
and translates this wiz
into the common parlance hence
he hints at what truly is
and this
my friend
is so much greater
than what most accept
that it is akin
to being born and raised
in Flatland
and seeing a sphere
pop in
as it takes you on a trip
of a spiral ascent which
when back in two dimensions
is so mind boggling
the rest think
you’re an odd fish
for even daring to suggest
they can’t be that voice in their head
but isn’t it Self evident
you’re that which listens?
Till we meet again
