Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Life is a Highway... Full of Pot Holes

I am wondering why in the the last few months I have been driving along the road of life only to blow my tires on these incessant pot holes? 

It's been amazing. How many pot holes can I possibly find? For that fact, how many figurative tires can I continue to pop? 

Life may be a highway but the repair crew has exited several towns back.

Welcome to a time not written. I have been thinking creatively about the implications surrounding time for art and writing purposes. What do we do if time weren't constant? Was it ever? 

What if our notion of black holes is incorrect and that black holes are actually condensed forms of absolute matter where time, space, and energy combine into a single entity? Then stepping into that chasm would yield a visitor an all access pass to the wisdom of the ages where time stood still.

So if every galaxy has a black hole of absolute matter as its core operating system, then the only reason we experience linear time and physicality is because the energy seeping outward of the event horizon manipulates our perception of what we call reality, yet does nothing to inhibit the quantum reality of observation that contradicts so many of our belief systems. 

If speculation could be verified, then the pot holes ripping through my fictional tires are really the reality I cannot fathom because I am stuck in a diluted distortion and reality actually exists inside nothingness...

Then someone asks... you think about these things? 
I reply: doesn't everyone?

Have a great and wonderful day! 

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