Analog us

What's to stop everything from happening at once. Nothing but us.

That doesn't though. Still and all it's everywhere right now going on. Tree growing, crabs running the beaches, birds soaring, owls swooping, wolves prowling, cows chomp chomp chomping.

Lasers like don't even focus. The ARE the only single part of light they can be. Which is like the single bit of being which is like our being and whence and what everyone is striving to be. Shutting out the encompassing infinity of it all. Focusing on a few key bits, maybe a marriage here, a car there, a lifetime, happiness in a few moments of success, but they all are the partial bit of the all. Evolvement or restriction of view, collapsing of possibility and thought into a strucutred piece of a greater whole.

Like music, good music is a strain, a trail, a cascade of like things strung along like a trail of bread or gold for the following. Trained like bloodhounds is what it comes to. Follow the scent, single out the important, hold on that which is important and good. Learning to that end leads to the tunneled hole of the infinite. Oddly enough. Down the rabbit hole Alice did fall, and upon falling and falling past Balrogs, fire, storms, peace, life and death without grounding did Alice alight upon a field of play. Card play.

Random chance and cards swirling about the possible skies. 52 digital notes falling in a snow of card paper light. Oh but the drugs I tell you, the drugs. They opened the door. The door to perception and everything happened at once and the card, the tree, Alice, the Queen, rabbit and cat laughed when the reality of themselves become only possiblity, shredding into an analog sunrise, untold infinite possiblity crunching through the gravel of your driveway in the mornings light. Yeah that. Except, oh wait, there are no drugs. Just reality. There is not a door, not girl, not a cat, not sky, not a lion roaring of Aslan. No, I'm afraid not.

Sqwealch on that spectrum, burying the closed doors, the refinment and the taste of the laser. Yup, in the focus laser light of evolution and education it all seems to be such a nice straight stair. A stairway to heaven. Untiling the last step is stepping and edge and infinite come into sight. There and here, without you or I or they or black or white is us. Analog us.