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Nothing At All

Nothing At All: This is the beginning, this is the end, of nothing at all. Nothing at all has no conclusion and no starting point. The glass is unfit to drink from when it is broken. The walls come tumbling down and crush a lame duck. True to form, something can’t be produced by nothing at all. This remains true despite the big bang conjectures. A wheel rolling down a hill is not destined to crash into a tree. This holds even if the tree is directly in the wheel’s path.

This is the end. This is the beginning of an array of possibilities. They lead fast-forwards into nothing at all. It is like an explosion at the other end of the cosmos that is not heard. The truth is explained away in face of its evidence like a lie taking pride and refusing to go away. Pools of pristine waters are rendered unfit to drink. Foods are manufactured to have the elegant taste of plastic and cardboard. A little salt and pepper are added for flavoring.

Nothing at all knocked on a restless person’s door. The restless person opened the door and saw nothing at all. Life is an illusion. It is manifested by a wayward photon with no purpose. Its only job is to bounce against a careless neutron. This action creates nothing from ten minus the power of nothing at all. The elevated think that the universe revolves around them. They believe every word they utter has a tremendous impact on everyone and everything. The dust do not know the elevated name. They do not know their shape or form. A broken tree branch does not call out to them as it falls.

Everyone hopes for the worst for the other person. They feel confident that they will be swept away to safety. This happens when nothing at all that exists calls them from the air. Mark my words. My words mean absolutely nothing at all in the vibrational frequencies of existence. The headstone is completely silent. It communicates nothing. Similarly, a phantom will not haunt anyone beyond what the person imagines.

A dune beetle came up with the concept of the wheel. An anthropodenial copied the idea. It then called it its invention. Volcano’s broadcast the power of steam, and the brute figured out ways to harness it. Anthropomorphism is the current social trend. Males and women are being redefined. As a result, diseases are proliferating with this type of thinking and behavior.

The wind blew northeast. It was not driven by climate change. Instead, it interacted with other streams of air that pushed it in a northeast direction. The simplest explanation is sometimes the best, especially if the goal of a universal nothing at all is your quest.

Look to the branch that breaks away from the tree. Consider how it accepts its fate without compromise or complaint. The consciousness of nothing at all is dreaming and it is all make-believe even of itself. When will the unknown be known? Will a blade of grass again be eaten by the cow? The cow must not be forced to consume chemical mixtures of whatever and everything.

If it ever should arise, the beginning and the end will collide. Out of the collision, nothing at all will be consumed. It will produce nothing at all in its wake. Thank goodness.

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The Echo

Recent Posts / Herbert Hilliard

The echo in the garden is not from my voice. So, where is it coming from? Who is producing it? It is a sound that I have not heard before. Yet, it is so familiar that I feel as if I intimately know it. I know a sound that I have not heard before. It surrounds me like an echo. I sense it without understanding the significance of my exposure.

The echo in the garden is so soothing and relaxing. I want to bathe myself in it. It washes away all my concerns. This feeling lasts at least for the moment. It stays with me at least for the day. I look but I do not see what my ears perceive. The echo in the garden is closer than touching me. The echo in the garden is an intricate part of me. The best part of me that I do not see. Revealing the hidden that I push away from myself and the shadows that creeps behind me.

Leaves are fluttering in the trees being moved by the echo in the garden that is stirring the air. Air that is as clean and as fresh as a star bursting into light nourishing the orbs revolving around it. The echo in the garden speaks to me in a language that can only be translated by the galactic vapors.

Every galaxy has its own ubiquitous vapors. These vapors communicate with the untouchable. This happens only when the outsider wants to be touched. So, I yield to the echo in the garden and listen carefully to the vaporous translations.

The echo in the garden filled me with anxiety. It echoed from the remote past of a half a second ago. I felt the trepidation of the unknown. Then, it soothed and relaxed me as never before. The unknown is still unspecified and mysterious, but the cuddling by the echo in the garden has made me fearless. Fearless of things to come and things that can not be undone.

As time ravages the mind, the feet inch closer to the door. This door is held open by the frost with a bitter bite. Nevertheless, the galactic vapors have informed me that there are no such creatures as never before and forever.

The garden is quiet. Not an animal is stirring. Every being is attentive to the echo in the garden. Every being listening to the touch of understanding, comprehending the sensations of completeness. Eventually, everything will know that the supernatural means nothing to the colors of the universe. The echo in the garden is as normal as a bump in the dark.

The garden is as serene as a hiccup without a burp. The shadows in the forest have a compelling friendliness. They compliment the echo.

One ecstasy at a time so as not to avalanche the mind with an overabundance of cosmic vapors. Uncontrolled thoughts and sensations that falls onto a fast-moving lizard and taken to a place where dreams can’t escape. Not of my voice is the echo in the garden and it comes from everywhere and from everything.

I want to coat my very essence with the echo in the garden. I live my life within its embrace. Because there is not an always nor a forever, I live. I exist as part of the echo in the garden. The vapors of the Milky Way galaxy educate me.

The Milky Way galaxy educates me about life after life. It teaches the sensibility of placing one foot before and behind the other.

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Good Wishes

Recent Posts / Herbert Hilliard

Good wishes without kisses. Moving ahead on a mission to unravel the cone when greatness ruled the earth, and the universe was young. Finding the motives for a people who has gone astray. They lose themselves in an unreal reality. This reality is created by the vacant lot, causing cultures to topple. Global pollution reign supreme.

A world of wishes exists without kisses. In this world, idiots rule and fools govern. The oblivious are obscured by the nonsensical. The pathetic are elevated higher than anything else. The ill-mannered are applauded. This recognition gives them even more energy. They stay dull-witted and bear the cost of neanderthal blending.

Once upon a time, the air was safe to breathe. Foods were nourishing to eat. Water energized the body. During that time large stones rolled uphill by thought, and other realms and planets were often visited by mental teleport. A woman knew what she was, and a man bathed her with the light of the sun. Then a particular ice age came and changed everything.

A new species of humanoid developed amid the ice and snow. No animal find refuge from this new biological metamorphosis that devoured everything in sight. The land became a garbage dump, and the waters became a sewage flush. Progress was measured by the number of trees cut down in the forest. It was also gauged by the level of artificial signals. These signals can distort the cells of the animal brain and human brain.

Kisses without wishes falling into oblivion under the weight of the avalanche that distorts everything and everyone it encounters. The light of the worlds unwittingly and willfully transformed themselves into debris and wreckage having only loudness as their distinction. Rulers hold on to the short stick tightly. It grounds them to powder and mocks them at every instant. When will the unwise learn and the unconscious regain their consciousness?

The planet earth was a wondrously beautiful place just the other day. Only one species of humanoids inhabited the soil. Trillions of stars provided colors and frequencies. These coalesced into perfect dark matter. This dark matter holds and sustains all the universes in their places. The fruit that fell from the tree nurtured and nourished the soil. This caused a blade of grass and a flower to bloom. No deserts, or wastelands, or molten core, and no beast or man feeding upon the other.

Good wishes without kisses. One mind without dissension. One body of one form and one universal house that truly can be called home. Yesterday, clouds rained down uncontaminated water. They created underground streams of vibrant purity. Oceans washed the shores without corruption. Wars were fought by intimidation not by bloodbaths and untold suffering. This was a time when life was different. That time will come again. It is as sure as tomorrow mirroring yesterday. The evening, morning, and night will stay unchanged.

This is not a dream. This is how existence was the day before yesterday and how it will be the day after tomorrow.

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The Look

Recent Posts / Herbert Hilliard

The look. Taking an analytical look at myself I am compelled to ask the age-old question “what is the meaning of life?” and specifically, “what is the meaning of my life?”

Do I live in a world of fantasies that I create? Or is regretting the things I have said and done the meaning of my life? Should I dismiss the inquisitive questioning of my being? Should I accept the horrors of the carbon world as a finished and absolute product?

My elevation is the core of my fantasies. It soars higher than the thoughts of the mind can reach. It carves out channels of completeness and rivers of fulfillment that the carbon world can’t accommodate.

What is the advantage of wishful thinking when whatever you wish can’t change the past? You can guide certain aspects of the future with wishful thinking. But the behavior of the cosmos does not work at your whim. Other people do not act according to your wishes. Thus, there are limitations to futuristic wishful thinking.

The look at myself is sobering at best. I see many loves reduced to ash before they can be built to stand by my feelings of inadequacy. I see a career in ruins because of my mistakes and addictive tendencies.

When I take the look at myself using the analytical approach to self-awareness, I see a pot boiling without water. The steam is not raising because there is nothing to create it.

A light rain is falling. Even though neanderthals have polluted and contaminated everything, the carbon-based is still a sound structure. A day of change is set to take place.

So, the age-old question as to the meaning of life is somewhat irrelevant. Hydrogen atoms have little regard for the various types of plasma. Do not be carried away by what scientific journals say about the age of this event. How and when it occurred is all guesswork.

The look is not to be inflated out of proportion but is to be taken as it is given. The thoughts of a double humpback camel are not the same as the thoughts of a single humpback camel. Whatever that means. And assumptions and beliefs are not the same as facts and knowledge.

The meaning of life is defined by the individual. As long as that person does not intentionally cause harm to others, their flow is maintained.

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Your Behavior Speaks

Recent Posts / Herbert Hilliard

Your Behavior Speaks

Your behavior is telling me the opposite of what your mouth is saying. I realize that you are confused so it is my duty to enlighten you. I am telling you that your avenue of escape is firmly in my grip. In my hands, you will feel completely free to express yourself. All your doubts about me will disappear.

Share all your thoughts with me. Together, we can sort them out. This will give you a pure thought of mind. In a little while the walk of a mile will be over and the journey into a wonderful future begins. In the aftermath the end will eclipse the beginning as well as the now of indecisiveness.

Do not place your faith in the figments of someone’s imaginations. I am the fulfillment of your dearest fantasies. I am the open scroll to your happiness. Leap before you look and be assured that I will catch you. With one hand I will suspend your fall and with the other hand I will slingshot your hips.

Moreover, I am your lifeline that will keep you from drowning, pulling you to the comfort of my shores. The door is open. The lock is broken. Your way is clear to discover the fountain of youth. You can find the hidden treasures of a long-lost civilization.

Why ride the goat when you can load the mule that carries your burdens? I am not making an unrealistic much of myself. I only want you to know that a flower has bloomed on the top of the mesa. It has no fear of a stone falling upon it. The clouds try to reach down and touch it, and the dew of morning nourishes it.

Your behavior say yes even as your mouth is saying maybe. There is no contradiction. There is no predicament. I am the noble beast of the open seas. My waves wash onto the coastlines of your best wishes. They soak them with a pleasant spray.

The wind will never blow through your head from ear to ear when I am near. Your heart will never be broken as it is too filled with plenty. The twinkle in your lovely eyes will never disappear.

Be advised that I am the prize you won when you drew your choice from the star clusters. You closed your eyes and blew a kiss, and that kiss became your wish. That wish that you kissed is me.

Your will is compromised as an offering on my alter of intent. There is no reason for you to feel distressed because the knife that I plunge into your heart is love. Blue skies, starlit nights and the season of romance is far more than a token.

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