You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Tuesday, January 25, 2011


Wrong. It feels wrong and unknown. The primary constant bleeding into every aspect of life: 1. Proof instantaneously shadowed with fallacy, contrary to the natural philosophy defining structure from a basis. It all starts from 1, not none.

We start from 1, alone, ourselves, and struggle to add another; however, wherever, whenever possible. We try to prove 1=1=2 in a system of emotional equations. We derive 2 from examples around us, viewing integrals without seeing the complex variables churning tired days. Suddenly we find it, the one equation to put 'x' and 'y' together - and somehow it works. The contours mesh beautifully, dividing 2 from the pool and calculating life at the speed of life, diving up, shooting down, spiraling in sinusoidal curves form 1 to 1 with the frequency of 2 heartbeats.

Light eventually penetrates the constants and reveals the imperfection; but it can work. To be as 2 when 1=1=2 creates life for others, blooms hope in the eyes, shatters mountain at the climax. Don't we want it? Don't we crave it? Don't we see imagination driving pictures down the spine to groins where that god walks ahead of us? Or when they spread their legs to access passion, to feel again, to scratch the humdrum and fire explosions into a starry night?

Wrong. What happens when the functions degrade? Hope tells us to work, to dig deeper, push harder, cry less; and then we'll find the top, screaming with victory for killing darkness. The speed of light equals the wavelength times the frequency. Love equals the brightness of truth times the extremes of sine. Truth is directly proportional to the limits, growing exponentially or diminishing with experience.

My world fell to the weight of that exponent. The dip fell, the high disappeared, the slope was too cracked. I was wrong, and now its 1 is truth in lonesome valleys where cries echo between the stark boulders of reality plummeting to a shaded river leading to infinity. The curves of my graph, explained on the dimensions of 1=1=2 has ceased on that plane and shifted to 1=1 without coordinates with the other. 1 feels wrong.

But 1 is properly illuminated as necessary in life. We start at 1, born to find an other somewhere with likeness. Uncertainty is bleak, but the river goes on to the ocean in the end, leading to white shores with magical reverie. Bounds breathe heavily, when opposing the norm, and embrace 1 as fact if ever fallacy were right. Singularity is enigma, and defines the inner beauty sought within duality.

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