(no subject)

What a worky tuesday, jinkies.

singularity

It was like waking up from a dream. He remembered everything now...
All the lives, all the suffering under the constraint of death and limitation. He did not shed a tear for those who suffered, because he was they, and they were healed of the wounds of separation. There was no suffering here and he was all of them. He did not laugh at the moments of joy, they seemed miniscule in the tide of ultimate awareness. The world around him was like a dream world, his every whim shaping and shifting matter, timelessly. Things dissolved into a cacophony of sensation, then reformed into a movie set piece, full immersion, down to the subatomic level, he could feel the universe grind and sway and melt and form up again. He was huge and tiny at once, having no particular body, then having one, as the mood struck.
He created others, but when he looked into their eyes, he was looking into a mirror. They were puppets, arising from a puppet universe.

Another meaningless eternity passed and he began to form rules, concepts that would lead to deterministic pathways. Watching this clockwork unfold for a timeless while, he gathered up the pain and passion that remained within him and spoke:
"Bereshith"
His voice echoed through the mechanism and he felt himself torn to shreds by it. He held on to a small piece of himself and watched for a while, then, the last parts of the mechanism set into place, he allowed himself to dissolve finally.

It was like waking up from a dream. He remembered everything now...