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Rated: · Poetry · Experience · #1347671
No rhyme or reason
For those who hear trees fall in the forest

It materialized in an ocean on a planet
Maybe it was real, Maybe it was not real

I will leave that for You to decide under your own freewill

It was a transient experience and drew a single breath of It's environment
Floating along aimlessly in a sea of self-fabricated ecstasy

Then it violently exploded into an unprecedented form, one found in the realm of dreams

A state of inconsistent nostalgia overtook The Subject and illusory thought could no longer be separated from nominal experience.

Or perhaps it was the other way around.

I will leave to Your feelings under Our determinism

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