5/6/25 The Rebirth is complete

 With Power 98, I am transformed into a Honey Bee, happily buzzing from flower to flower.  I am having the time of my life attending to flight of fancy with my imagination.

PIE is the answer.  Without PIE, I'm stuck in a rut.  Here I am, one happy bunny.  Just me and my thoughts.  The past is the past.  Now is about a glorious future.

The Cybernetic Loop is superb.  Taking me to a foreign land, away from my own daily grind.  This is life well lived.

Given a choice, I would rather be alone.  This suits me fine.  Just me and the Cybernetic Loop.  I don't like crowds.  They bother me.  This way, I just ramble and ramble like an old coot waiting for Kingdom Come.

This is an ideal life.  If I can move more and eat less, I will be set for eternity.  Death seems like a sweet departure.  I am on my way to a destiny that even I cannot imagine.  A destiny of light and wave spectrum.

From here on, I will write happy stories of fiction to entertain my writing prowess.  I don't care if I write junk.  Junk is the dirt that separates the gold nuggets from the prospectors.  I will keep on panning for gold.  This is the mother lode.

So here I am, minding my own business.  Nothing out there matters to me.  What counts is the Universe Within.  I am the scribe of the God Eternal Within My Body.

My story now is like a gravy train going in one direction down the hill.  I will not revisit these stories again.  My writing is one way as long as I listen to Power 98.

I will not create a new Blog either.  This is the rebirth.  The journey is forward.  Sure, I appreciate the intervention.  However, they are passing scenery as the train rolls down the hill.  I will look at it, but as far as the train of thought is concerned, it is from within.

I realize that what I write only matters to me.  Why, then I need external input?  The Cybernetic Loop is good enough.  All I need is a good transmission. 

This is a good example.  The train whizzes through the fog of thoughts full of certainty because the track has been laid.  Regardless of the weather, the landscape remains unscathed.

And so I write.  Like a crazy poet in an asylum waiting for inspiration.  The songs take care of that part.  Me?  I am marking time.

mm