Reassessing indigo tides

Pulsing and tossing to a wide wake wave from the moon.

Where is the ultimate question.

Where will you be, will you be when you drop?

Where, you can avoid.

When, you cannot.

Ultra–meta.

Pray to the god of meta.

Metaphysical.

Metamorphosis.

Metalanguage.

Ultra-mega.

Pray to the god of mega.

Megaphysical.

Megamorphosis.

Megalanguage.

To simply re-read is impossible semantically, because time is the mythical ocean you can never step into twice.

You get the max for the minimum, the minimum price.

You can't redo anything. Unless, of course, you relive the exact same life. But then, you'd have to relive it at the exact same time/space relationship within the universe, making time bogus because the same life would have to occur an infinite number of times simultaneously without time occurring which is God with a capital gee.

An infinite number of events progressing at the same time without time occurring, passing, existing. If true, how would the concept of time be perceived? Identified? Invented? How could anything but infinity exist in the blink of an eye?

This is the essential, bare bones, greatest common denominator of an eternal mystery.

*

Endurance alone cannot overcome the speculative spectrum of this contemplation.

Converging, submerging, and a call for help as broken hearts beat.

A silent, unheard call characterized by deceptively strong modes of interaction.

Later, a stun quick and empty, savage silence and a bottom–scraping crash.

Later, sanity and a reality that isn't so bad.

Later, full circle and re-acquaintance and other similar intentions.