Every futurist is a fraud! Set as much store in the fortune teller as the futurist. Both peddle the same counterfeit currency: counterfactuals. Futures, possible worlds, and other Messiah… Listen carefully for their baseless certainties! I am grateful these would-be oracles make it easier to find them out.
Only now is real. Yet only falsities like memory-past and fantasy-future give now any meaning. The naked present is useless, pedestrian, mundane, free. Only now is free.
I have found the moon in daylight, and i have seen the midnight sun. Verily, night and day are one.
Change, like permanence, evolves forever-now. Remember! All else is void. Hold your memories, those golden coins.
Smoke, like impermanence, coils and whisps in strange whirliwhorls. Forgetting! A willful paring down of sensation. How better to describe concentration, that golden laser.
Destiny, just like this pigeon, is a phenomenon of the here-and-now.
I nurse a cherry fire and participate in the irreversible present. In my memory, a long string of fiery cherries glows and flickers like luminaria lighting the paths of the dead. (I wield entropy, a flame between bathroom mirrors.) I exhale the irreversible now. When I die, it will be in the present. Yet the dead are with me now!
Even now, the Martian promises of the futurist decay under too much sunlight. Promises are no match for this moment.
An eternally recurring daydream, or a lucid nightmare – either way, they are remembered in the zero of right now :: God-now is merely origin point personified.
Axiom: Each person is an origin point: (Holy)
Only now is real. Only now shows up on my dials. Only now can be experienced, and if I ever want to measure anything, I measure it now.
Remember! My fellow God-now and time maker, remember you instantiate the present moment, and remind the futurist!
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