Structural No. Reality
I have a theory on the structural nature of a number patterned reality, be it our reality bespoke in clearest experience – for a moment my mnemonic nomenclature recall first hours in creation. In my coming i’d found myself dreaming, laying in a yellow grass mountain-slope to Kokopelli Pone, the sun glistening grass reflecting orbs beaded daily strung my wrist for with the gift Jyl, a good friend gave them her protection, insight on the grass. In my sight a wise crane bird swamped slow the filled water mash, a white feather monolith between this pond blaring the upper sun into my eyes both when i look down and when i look up and into blue sky; looks just like my painting sunrise. And i’m at sunset near rollercoasters natural winds ride the dragonflies painted red and their shadows same sizes as planes passing along and jade the grass withstand to carry on growing, dancing to the wind’s intuit. To it, the sun reflection i saw a series of patterns, i’d heard something of a similar sort in mandala. Colors shown too, spun as if the sun had her hands for rays and were dialing up into spinning saturations. I can believe my eyes, this is the first hour, in eden, masterpiece.
