Tag: poetic prose
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The Origin Moved While Everything Else Stayed Still
The room did not change. The walls remained where they had always been. The window still opened onto the same weather.The floor continued to meet the walls at the expected angles.Light entered through the glass and settled across the same familiar surfaces. Nothing had moved. Except the origin. No one noticed at first. There was…
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The Weather Does Not Owe Us a Forecast
The mind wakes in pieces. No emergency. Nothing has necessarily been misplaced. A thought is simply in another room. A memory has gone outside without leaving a note. Curiosity is sitting beside the window,watching something we cannot yet see. The weather changes. It does not consult the calendar. It does not explain itself. It does…
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The Winding River: A Meditation on Directionality, Identity, and Flow
Every river knows where it is going.Not because it can see the sea —but because it feels the pull. A river does not travel in straight lines.It bends, doubles back, spills sideways into marshes,lingers in deep pools until stars gather to admire their reflections.It lets gravity draw it onward, yes —but it chooses its own…
We Are All Data Inside 