The things we feel, they capture me like a spell
What will happen,  only time will tell.

At night we talk about the day, just how much it means to me, I dare not say.

Love can be a feeling, a taste a smell.
But how do I know its real?

Only time will tell.

Careful you must be about saying such words, for all is watching, all is seen and heard.

But how can we not, these thoughts dont quell. What should I do?

I do not know, but only time will tell.

Sometimes we lay there at night, talking for hours upon hours until the morning light.
You exist in head, my heart and my soul for free, one of life's late night mysteries.

you passed understanding. You got an A

It is so boring, that's all, it's like, what do I think about,
while a' drive a' used boring machine man extention,
used to cost five mill then, haps to cost more used,
right, tight military coded respect, cost to develop,
- it's no secret its just ignorance of our shields
- Mars's musta blown away
- no deep life or no life, Elon,
- here after whatever happened to Mars
- Earth might breed survivors, remember
- the ages of Ice and stories so old as that
- whole mountains of red mud, so deep sky
- boilt'steem esteemed so
- hot
but theres these lava flows, miles thick lava rivers,
we bet we suggest it to elon, like the whole world does,
choices are melon of felon, no Elon, as stories shall
say elon, can we use won of your boring machines
to drill into lava miles wide and deep, so inside,
it would feel like Mars, same from Suns rays deep…
safe, eventually selfsupporting colonies of Dunbar sized
bubble in the lava, Boring Company can do it now,
somebody who knows who can do the drill,
you know,
the drill, how did you pass

Here's to all the Turing Loops through A.E. Wilder-Smith,
and his version of Von Neuman…
as a model old friend I hope never to offend, but, the logic,
post public knowledge unbeknownst to my ghosts, the idea,
smith wild dancer archery champion, here we hap
around activated memorial day memes…

we think like each other for decades,
we watch the same telos controlled licensed advertised art,
we all did not have tele vision, we all had radio,

and our grandaddy knew how to tune in to the whole world,
when the weather was so perfect it would seem impossible,

but you can see Saturn, from my front porch, using
this very same attention ******* mindset gritting my teeth.





All ye, according
to print traditions
all Þorny hang ups
from Þose traditional
clips
of hippiegnoshit growing
that summer, same people,
valley inland this far just fine as
on Big Sur now,
at my age, I can rage
about the power
art's sake authentic ideals
AI assisting intelligence, help me
message
in the medium,

sounds remind gel jello, ok, so far

boom read this…
Google translation
- intervened to assume all guilt
- should such an integrated post
- lose its link to the point
- THIS IS WHO CAN THINK WHAT NOW
FREE the truth makes used just now
- in this context adsorbed in ai just then

real life online reach out inter
acting ai\autonomic mode, re thunk
consistently channeling dream waste

through the grease trap behind the old
church they talk about on TV like,
sit closer imagine ursala le guin,
this century, she survives, as we the old
k
once sat and listent to code in the radio
or in the movies, it was 1954, see, we had
SOI and SOP and certain ritual each shift did

told tales
of broken vows and rigid faith,
- in what, eh
that nobody remembers GE makes diamonds,

fracture
on a fragile edge
of visited sanity, good

definite shape an infine
refined to what brought us
used muses tuned to war re
workworktuned to peace past understanding
Mark Mork Pooka tuned and tested

basically some time, nine thousand hours, Keil,
estimated minimum one on one reading hours
to praying hours ever eventful ones sure thing
to say we believed Jesus was coming SOON.

Sun Yung Moon Sansara Hamartia, pay attention,
we account for all our idle words, we dump
wu wei too easy whole world making peace thing

free mind granted access to all my poetry,
reader and writer side, is globally copy
pasteable peaceably in 197 Languages today
Þorny issues grafts get new roots, we fixt it
most citrus has thorns, we can say Þorn, that's it
many smile
jest assured, hooks took, we got
an appreciation of the ideas, those live

right, maybe today my dopamine's
humming with my noises, making me think

wow, we can write global verse in this universe

If this offends or whatever, say so, and I can just say
The idea I found hooked me, in some kind of we think

true, you judge you and you say if I could say how good
the translation made me feel
about guilt for never learning.
Spanish
for Quixote's claim, it is not key ** tic. okeh
- but you think quick so tic, tic, tic
- what happens in the dios ausenciaaaah
- magic pens with motors assumumption

if the press were free, I sing,
I would, if words may, I sing free  is a Þorny issue,
ifery and reification  we I may reify a disneyification…

in the future we read all Wikipedian tongues, easy,
as the news in olden days, on a weekly press, mailed…

but here is today's feature Spanish Poet, me and my ai we
add some like think what yo se

Mario Benedetti
Ausencia de dios
Digamos que te alejas definitivamente

From <https://hellopoetry.com/>

Mario wrote it we read it and said that
was easy, the act of thinking ai read Spanish

okay
on Hello Poetry Original easy link think
oh you do it we think it easy, from here

Absence of god, the id os id need to go on
no
that's the title
Ausencia de dios -in this medium- go on there's space
--- this is that in English, now free press function
--- this is the Spanish default local Ai translation
--- gwan message massage the empty hole

Ausencia de dios
Let's say you're finally moving away
toward the pit of oblivion you prefer,
but the best part of your space,
in reality the only constant of your space,
will remain forever in me, grieving,
persuaded, frustrated, silent,
your inert and substantial heart will remain in me,
your heart of a unique promise
in me who am entirely alone
surviving you.

After that round and effective pain,
patiently bitter, of invincible tenderness,
it no longer matters that I use your unbearable absence
or that I dare to ask if you fit
as always in a word.

The truth is that now you are no longer in my night
heartbreakingly identical to the others
that I repeated searching for you, surrounding you.
There is only an irremediable echo
of my voice as a child, the one I didn't know.

Now what useless fear, what shame
not having a prayer to bite,
not having faith to dig my nails into,
not having anything but the night,
knowing that God is dying, slipping away,
that God retreats with closed arms,
with closed lips, with the fog,
like a bell tower horribly in ruins
unraveling centuries of ash.

It's late. Yet I would give
all the oaths and the rains,
the walls with insults and pampering,
the winter windows, the sea sometimes,
not to have your heart in me,
your inevitable and painful heart
in me who am entirely alone
surviving you.
---------------------------------

I did it this way, with cause, surviving,
is how we continue the access to used tools,
old books elites taught soldiers with,
for centuries, lead us to Gunga Din,
who reappeared as Dr. Zorba,
in a chalk talk Ben Casey intro,
featuring a very hairy brain surgeon.

Mork was hairy, sneeze
godblessuyesewas, sneeze distracts me

I met another survivor, in weform reading we
not even the same tongue, no talk of lisps

and then, I had the rest of my day to think about that
because I took part in an experiment in random code
retention, wu tension total wu way, too, five letter groups

with a neutron to focus on this medium can read any… sigh
but that's an if, as confusing force makes life too hard… yet
if we read this far we are letting this mind be, so real.

I read it a bunch of times, and each time, I hoped
curiosity has some readers think one point…
Þis or Þat or Þose or these Þose suppose…

is this taboo to get caught up at the surviving you hook
Þorny issue for many who once sold rosy glasses.

Along the back wall, see it third time through

dorkinhere as mr toad's ohnognoshit though
ghuckingtough to get traction without true grit…

as a digestion suggestions from the chickens
who lived to rule the table, who sits on your board.

We got, there he is Think and Grow Rich, thunk
a bout a *** dred or so, years, miles, whose measure?

the door is open
to mind hollow empty core

The words flow best,
In the places you won't go.
Each dip in the brain,
Places in your mind where it rains.

I can't fault you,
These things bring great pain.
But if you wish to make music,
Which I know you do,
You need to.

I try to walk the Earth,
Yet, I'm impeded.
The planet's rotation,
Keeps me pacing.
Each good memory keeps on replacing,
With something worse,
Plus a better, yet, imagined one.

Inside my mind, a tree decays,
Its branches broken, lost in haze.
Dark shadows cling to every limb,
A silent scream, a fading hymn.

Roots once deep now barely hold,
A story of despair untold.
I feel myself slowly fade,
A shadow of the strength I made.

No light breaks through this endless night,
Just emptiness and fading sight.
The tree is dying, lost in gloom,
A silent witness to my doom.

"TAKE A WALK INSIDE MY MIND"

In dreams, my love, you come to stay,
Locked inside, you can't run away.
Don't fear the dark, don’t close your eyes,
Within these depths, a soft truth lies.

Keep going, love, and don’t retreat,
There’s warmth ahead, past cold defeat.
Ignore the man who screams and weeps —
A shattered piece my silence keeps.

He’s part of me, when all went wrong,
But his grip is fierce, his hold is strong.
Stay clear of him, don’t meet his face,
He dwells inside a cursed place.

And if you feel a child is near,
Don’t be alarmed — he brings no fear.
That child is me, small hands so light,
He guards your path, he knows what's right.

I used to wish, in whispered prayer,
That you could walk inside me, there —
You’d see the truth I tried to hide,
The love I hold, so deep inside.

Now follow close — hear my soul's sound,
Let childish fingers guide you down.
He asked to hold your hand — say yes,
His grip is soft, it won't oppress.

Oh wait — don’t look beyond that wall,
Where darkest memories still crawl.
That man… the one who stole your peace,
He suffers now and finds no ease.

I lock him there, where he must stay,
And punish him each godless day.
Please turn away — you should not see
The vengeance I demand from me.

Go on, through doors of quiet grace,
You’ll find us in a gentler place.
A garden room where sun is gold,
Where love is warm and hearts are bold.

Look — there we are, both full of joy,
You, me, our girl, and little boy.
She laughs like you — her eyes the same,
We call her light, we gave her name.

This is the home I run to, dear,
Each time you flee or disappear.
It’s where the shadows dare not creep,
It’s where my demons fall asleep.

I don’t know who I’d be, or how,
Without this dream we’re living now.
Though words may fail, please know it’s true —
This heaven lives because of you.

And when my time on Earth is done,
This is the place where I will run.
No pain, no cries, no hollow moan —
Just you, and me, and light — alone.

--Raydachef

Outside of language structuring and more into the rhetoric of philosophy;
Logos, within the frame of reference of 2nd person perspective, corresponds to our inner monologues. The mind's speech.

1st person - Perceiver - Person
2nd person - Perception - Place
3rd person - The Perceived - Thing

So whereas from the 1st person perspective, thought is merely an attribute of perception - 2nd person sees the mind as a more physical place.
A liminal space between the material & immaterial.
Therein, thought which is the inner monologue can be offered body. You can personify thought as a whole, personify thoughts in sets, or in singulars. So 3rd person would be thought which examines or experiences itself.