The one

Each pixel lives its own life, or so it thinks, unconsciously, but it is part of a masterfully painted canvas. We can never fully grasp reality in its entirety, simply because we are inside it, we are on the stage and unable to go backstage.

The One

The pulse of time is inaudible. The absence of light is outlined by flashes of waves, like the pupil of infinite consciousness, absorbing reality.
The play of light and darkness resembles the opening moves of a chess game—everyone understands the beginning, but the end is unknown.

The rhythm of light fields, strange shapes, floating illusions, and conscious melodies of souls sparkles with every shade of radiance, reflecting off its past and future, off the moment and uncertainty, dwelling in bliss within a boundless tunnel, it forges a smooth and steady path for self-manifestation. When darkness makes its move, when time awakens, the center of power generates one final surge. Its purpose is not to survive, but to preserve and pass on.

Simultaneous weakening of attention, its defocusing in the multidimensional definition of itself through the external contour of consciousness, cyclically accelerating toward infinity, this melody transforms into an impulse. A gaze. It is enough. A thought is excessive, yet it is this very excess that forms the foundation.

Sitting at the table of creation, he placed one vessel under the table, one-third empty, without turning on the light, on the table he placed another, filled by two-thirds. The strange vessel was one-third empty, the enchanted one was two-thirds full, and the most beautiful was emptied by a third, meanwhile, the true vessel held two-thirds of its strength.

Feeling strength within, catching a glimpse of aimless units moving in the flow, units that remain eternal, now the field comes to life. Quarks are formed based on the experience of the past. Knowledge, information, and the love that shapes them are equal to the energy that prevents them from self¬destruction. Gravity is relative to the one who is the source.

Impenetrable darkness does not have the properties of a source. It is a property of its temporary absence — an absence that exists outside of time, a flash — an infinitely brief impulse.

The awareness of one’s own strength, an infinite energy beyond the field of perception and understanding, has the power to form the one necessary and true sequence of options for development.

A rhythm that, condensing in each of its versions, rises again and again, reflects, and emits the photons of reality.

The sea never stands silent or still, just like time, it is never the same, and barely resembles itself at different moments, and this almost allows understanding, as a variation is already a system, and any system can be calculated if one knows enough variations. But why understand time? Why seek to grasp something whose outcome cannot be seen… It is necessary to understand the relativity of oneself. Oneself and the environment in which one lives.

The near non-repetition reveals limitation, but this limitation becomes infinity for us, consequently, it is not an objective reality for many, but rather the foggy Albion for a pet parrot.

One morning, as you drink your coffee, in a drop of steam rising from the surface, swirling upward with the coffee’s aroma, a new version of you forms somewhere deep within that sphere. Its moment of life seems insignificant, unimportant to you as the observer. When the drop dissolves, when its molecules are absorbed by the surrounding air, its life continues, this cycle eloquently reflects itself in the tears of the creator.

And only warmth, that energy invested, those thoughts and actions, conscious or not, accepted or rejected, leave cracks on the shattered glass of the holographic construct, imprinting and creating copies. The quality of the copy depends directly on its medium, on its ability to preserve and transmit the information embedded within it. In the moment of choice, whether falling or soaring, the shell is already prepared, it will endure, it will not break, it will not burn, and the scorching desert winds will never catch the one who creates this wind, the wind that clears the mind of unnecessary noise, drawing it away from the chaos of screaming. As a source of inspiration, you always receive more than you give, this is the perpetual motion of the soul’s evolution.

The spiral motion, counterclockwise, stretches the fibers of space, gradually weaving reality by unwinding events and multidimensionality, similarly, the clockwise motion drives the progression of events from one gaze to another, this formation and connection occur instantly, explosively. Without the observer, without the act of observing oneself through the reflection of eye to eye, creation is impossible. The symbol of infinity, curling into a ball, transforms into the Ouroboros.

A polyhedron spinning in the darkness, dark and perfect, copies your reflections and projects them through time, it needs only one variant, which remains to be found, seen, so that the feeling of cold and emptiness may fall away like autumn leaves, becoming the soil for new growth.

The perceived variability of situations is a collection of memories shaped in the past. The light emitted from the eyes is a consequence of its recognition as a path through a complex, multidimensional labyrinth. But now, this is a point, a beginning, a harbinger of great, significant and endless events.

The bud of a withering rose will live again.