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quantum locks for doors an qualns
#WritcoPoemPrompt123
Things that get in your way,
As if there's a hidden door blocking your path,
And find the worst, by error as it stray!
A problem to be solved, probably simple math.

it's funny to me how one says simple math.
as if quantum is complicated.
it's not.

quantum is illusionarily , in a sense, a virtue. a virtue is earned, never sold, nurtured, given to physical and nonphysical pushes in the realm both, and above all, a virtue is felt. is noticed. and isn't always the same Everytime it shows unface. this evolution that hugs the fabric of your inside And out is of both anxiety and welcoming relief. for it to stay the same is familiar and related. for it to change is growth and something knew. rooted in the famimiar.
anyway.
quantum is kind of likened to my picture of wisdom.
I feel wisdom is common sense ( or a bunch of common sense at once) . I feel wisdom is common since and along that path is quantum. given that common since and understanding are nurtured given presentation , even without experience the picture will manifest vividly.

to describe an understanding is to work out a problem without the proof of the problem. ergo. quantum.

wind is like quantum. physical effects are within reach and is essential to us. to say one plus one is equivelent to two is well practiced, proven, and silly. .........(hold my thot)

is py quantum. or is it immortality. or is it love. for love to never have a pattern, it must be immortal ish. I mean, if it wNts to be.

and is the entire py equation. ran.
like pyran.
like a mountain.
like fire.
does fire not cleanse? Chadrack, meshack, and abendigo witnessed a fire as to not burn their skin.
that must be pyran.
I'll be a pyro then.
py3.14.
ran. than?
ran. what are the numerals of a ran? and is it missing an I? because maybe , it's pyrain? that sounds even more cleansing. and pure.


what gets in the way. thee?
I mean , besides me.
obstacles as doors. keyless entries locked up so tightly. and everybody's looking for the goddamn key. there isnt one to this one in specifity. I mean, there's a way, yeah. but it is a door you stumbled upon. didn't trip on.
found.
discovered.
this hindrance is yours.
to find the worst of something is to welcome the opposite. I'm not trying to paint without washing the walls. and I'm not trying to paint over holes like the air will hold it up. but it is simple math.

the most tortured man or woman is the man or woman that holds the keys to the literal best and highest since of pleasure, peace, happiness, joy and all that other nonsense.

it is still a curse indeed to feel the worst the universe can concoct in it's buzzing aurically connected damn near haunted and contagiously sick way of producing a pain an then giving it away for a human to perfect. for a human to engage in it's trial of curse my daykf birth type norm. nobody the fuck wants to hurt.

but goddamn. I'd like to be a witness to them stunning across the opposite kind of feeling it produces.
that's pretty deep shit.
now I want it. but fuck all the BS. LoL




if a door blocks your path. if you can't sneak out a window. stare at the door. cuddle up against your own skin. curl up at the width of its feet. press your war to the crevice patterns of the wood. oil the henges. and mind your own business. time is not exactly an illusion as much as the fact that longing can't exist without it. and since longing is a tree of life. and since a tree of life is associated with time (or it's undoing) I guess I'll fall in time. fucks it. of course humans use it on their own personal timeline. I mean , how long it takes to produce mold from the dampness of a fallen log or corner of a leaky roof. the production of a certain perfection needed to achieve balance is a great reason for time to exist. not for humans to fucking feed and fight and judge and twist and insist and create reasons to fucking be late . to what! (the best line of business is business of your own......etc)

being late to clock in, and being late to choose a mold or pick a flower for an antidote or a cure ... that's way too fucking different wavelengths.

can I get separate timelines. ones tainted. yuck.

anyway, given time . and touching skin to skin to bark to dust and whispered littles bits of where and how the tree grew up. which family picked the door. and why that kind of wood. did the hinges ever creek and was it steel silver or just shoved. ....

you get to know that object.
eventually.
as nature insists and as the story is alone reminisced.
you will receive it's pictures.
what did it go through.
and what can ya do for an inanimate object that keeps out intruders for you, gives you privacey, and keeps you warm.

you just Love it.
oddly enough that's what I do.

soon enough the story will be of no hindrance, you want to share the door with none, you'll want to protect the door. instead of the other way around.

obstacley obsolete.
thank you for getting the fuck in my way.
I love you more than humans.

to unlock you was to add a lock and sing.
© chorus chrubble