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This is a beautiful piece, its philosophical musings taking on a personal, almost physical urgency, as if the answers to these questions meant everything, and I think maybe they do.

"There is no hard. There is no wet./No time without motion." And then... "Is it incidental order?" and "Rules within rules..." The illusion of solidity, within a clearly ordered framework whose order is, as yet, and probably always, just beyond our understanding, can't help but inspire such questioning. Really enjoyed this :)

Thanks. Flashbacks from my organic chemistry days when I discovered that everything is really just organized energy.

This is a beautiful poem and dark at the same time. Touches. Well written

I like your art. your way of writing communicates with my spirit

Thanks for saying that. It's the only thing that matters in poetry I think - that type of communication. It's what binds us.

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