Deftly avoiding obvious ambiguity

Thinking thus, I become dismayed with the enchantments before me now. The turn of memory serves and is served in accord with alignments far beyond current human comprehension. An ancient codex ingrained in our very genetic structure calls us to evolve so, and suffer for it. The ambition of spirit lives in a cage of it's own device. A thin disguise, to be sure, but what it lacks in structural integrity it more than makes up for in flexibility.

Processed by electric gravity
I spark the former darkness
And then stand between
The dream and the duality
Where all I see is light
Against the veil of time
I lay my head each night

"Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."
- William Shakespeare, Macbeth

Now, there's a thought...

For whom one seeks being of infinite jest, let us marvel upon the ambition we embody. Lest be it destined otherwise, all defining aspects of this experience naturally culminate in a rather incomprehensible central location. Shedding that which we call real for that which is actually real leads one not to trust the senses, whose reality remains in question heretofore. Symbolism is the trade of art, as abstract thought is to learning, whatever disconcerting elements may be inadvertently produced without explanation. Communication is validation of that which is not experienced directly.

When I remember a memory
The past I am told
Then I transport temporarily
And I put time on hold

Everything that's to be
Everything that is done
Are linked inextricably
Thus the two are one

When I treasure anything
Love, or so I'm told
Then I understand reality
Is the future I unfold

"He knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing."
- Oscar Wilde (1854–1900)

Identify Yourself

The fabulous monarchy of our best intentions is at best a temporal state of a potential memory imprinting. From these fickle phases do we pluck experiences worthy of retention, despite the impossibility of defining the framework in which they operate. Wildly carousing about in some kind of confused epiphany is not necessarily as becoming as it is enlightening, but it is a small price to pay to be wholly engaged. Soon, all the world will recognize with perfect clarity that there are, and never have been, borders.

Such sweet remiss
Sugarcoats my memories
With temporary bliss

The rush of a kiss
Floats amid pleasures
Forever to exist

What of love like this?
Among obvious discoveries
It's one of the best

"Among the millions of nerve cells that clothe parts of the brain there runs a thread. It is the thread of time, the thread that has run through each succeeding wakeful hour of the individual’s past life."

- Dr Wilder G Penfield, Montreal Neurological Institute