Simulation

 Dredging the lake for bodies...
Recalling her amazement
At my ability to create in a vacuum...
To thrive in a desert...
It all came down
To the hidden things...
Those buried emotions and blurred memories...
Things that part of me wanted to recover,
And part of me wanted to destroy...
Even then,
Words came out more easily
In the handwritten or typed word...
Words spoken,
Were awkward, hesitating,
Unless there was a script...
On paper, I could be myself...
Any judgement could be passed off
As judgement of the crafting,
Not a judgement of me...
But I eventually learned how people are,
How they can be...
The greatest source of anxiety
For most primates
Is their own species,
Their own community...
Small towns don't leave room for too many secrets,
But secrets are always there
In every attic, closet, and basement...
Words always trying to get out...
Unspoken things
That silently desire to be heard...
Darkness that wants to be seen by the light
The way a candle wants to be lit...
There is a boundary
From one thing to the next
That can't be bridged by shades of gray...
The clipping between the frames of human perception...
60 frames per second or less is all we can see,
But things move so much faster than that...
Even when they are at rest,
They are constantly spinning...
Just a haze of motion
That is understood as a solid...
We can feel the boundary
As if it were real...
We experience because of limitations...
Differentiation of one moment to the next
Is perceived as movement...
Movement is perceived as time passing...
Time passing is just perception
Playing tricks...
There is only the "now" changing shape...
The present moment
Graphing its equation
In imaginary space,
Dividing the void into a plurality of moments,
Everything we know
Was created from this lack of substance...
All creation is a shaping of the void...
Being arising from non-being as a matter of course...