some nights are a long journey.

and the snow falls,
and it melts slowly as it falls,
ever so gently,
upon the warm tongue of earth.

I reach my hand out,
to catch a flake...
and bringing it quickly to my mouth
I taste it...touch it to my lips,

it tastes like creation,

I taste it's journey!

I like to taste the journey of things,
a snowflake falling,
a million miles it's own length,
slowly,
into the vapor of god,

any god,
the only god.

some nights are a long journey,
and I taste the years as they come,
and as they go...

and still,
I am just me.

do my eyes taste the same as my words?

The connections between ordinary objects are fleeting and superficial.

Two atoms may collide and separate, never to meet again.

Others can stick together by virtue of the chemical bonds they form, until the day that bond is broken.

But there is another type of connection that is far more powerful and romantic. Certain objects can become linked by a mysterious process called entanglement.

Particles that become entangled are deeply connected regardless of the distance between them. If they become separated by the width of the Universe, the bond between them remains intact.

These particles are so deeply linked that it’s as if they somehow share the same existence.

Physicists do not yet fully understand the nature of entanglement but there is growing evidence that it is a fundamental property of the universe.

Unfettered by the restrictions of space, entanglement may be the ghostly bedrock upon which reality is built.

Entanglement is a strange feature of quantum physics, the science of the very small.

It’s possible to link together two quantum particles – photons of light or atoms, for example – in a special way that makes them effectively two parts of the same entity.

You can then separate them as far as you like, and a change in one is instantly reflected in the other.

Hmm...now doesn't that sound a lot like people as well?

we are born,
innocent, loving.
a name,
a pair of eyes,
lips that are perfect for whispering,
an unforgettable face.

but we are not born fluent in love,
we spend our life learning about it.

so...just how much heart does it take,
is it really blind?

or do we transform ourselves...by loving,
releasing the wounded aspects of the self
that wield authority over our thoughts.

oh, how easy it would be if love could
be brought home like a lost kitten,
or gathered in like strawberries,
how lovely it would be;

but nothing is ever as perfect
as you want it to be, and now,
when I can't express what I really feel...
I practice feeling what I can't express.

and none of it is equal,
I know, to love...
but that's why humankind,
alone among the animals,
learns to cry.

<<<~~~~~o~0~o~~~~~>>>

("if I were a poet,
I'd kidnap you and
put you into my words")

And you became the moon,
the moon all dressed in white...
and I became a captive cloud,
and whisked you out of sight.

His name was Forest,
Forest Walker the third...
a timeless gentleman was he,

and though his age foretold
of his growing old, yet still he
kept looking for me.

He never tried
to stay alive,
it just so happened you see...

and now he can be found
with his eyes to the ground,
searching the woodlands for me.

What does he seek, this man who
speaks so quiet, so reserved
and shy...

who spends his days
in various ways
trying to find me...why?

One of these days I'll walk
down where there is no clock,
looking for this strange and little man of old,

just who will I find,
in those woodland pine...
his name is Forest Walker I've been told.

I wonder what it'll be like,
will I find him then...when
I am one hundred and three,

when I finally find this stalker
by the name of Forest Walker...
will he look at all, or anything like me?

“any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Arthur C. Clarke’s observation...