Intuitive Miss-Ion

Intuitive mission

In the median of possible,

Lays every position.

Connected together,

Not spaced out linearity.

No longitudinal slices,

In higher dimensions,

Rather infinite topography.

The journey we manifest in.

Its holographic projection,

A sum of all minds,

Concretes the foundation’s.

A pleasure to find.

As real as the walls aren’t,

The holes that we fall through,

A mountain potentially,

We climb in or up to.

It’s our choice ‘potentially’

It is what we make it,

A sentient construction.

The matter needn’t restrain you.

A simple reminder,

To consciousness’s,

It mimics a harbour.

But solid it’s not,

Its fluidity fluxing,

Oscillation of plot.

The point of these confines,

Underwhelming the psyche.

Its border, a binder,

For weaker mentalities.

That isn’t defilement,

Denigrating intelligence,

Most human need a container,

For safety. But not me,

I prefer, etherealised nonlinear,

Freedom, beyond inhabitance,

The more that the structures,

Begin to unravel some.

The further we fall into,

Our abilities to travel to.

Any point, that is a coordinate,

In time, space, reality.

It’s just up to your format.

And to your discretion,

really.