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If boundless ‘sheer intuition’ is the boundless ‘fetus’ within the boundless ‘placenta’ and ‘amniotic fluid’, what then is the boundless ‘umbilical cord’?

What can prevent ‘sheer intuition’ from being completely sealed off?

What can prevent ‘sheer intuition’ from being entirely sealed away?

What can allow ‘sheer intuition’ to be both sealed and yet capable of change, both perceiving and yet perceived, both gazing and yet gazed upon, both silent and yet expressive, both speaking and yet listening, be both trusting and trusted, both loving and loved, both affirming and affirmed, both creating and created, both revising and revised, and be capable of becoming that fetus or another fetus without ever attributing the ego to the fetus?

That mouse never identified its ego as a mouse.

That infant never identified its ego as an infant.

That mouse did not identify that infant as an ‘infant’.

That infant did not identify that mouse as a ‘mouse’.

That fetus never identified itself as a fetus.

Nor did that fetus ever attribute another fetus to the fetus category.

Would that infant or that fetus attribute ego to one gender or another?

Would that fetus or that infant attribute ego to a race or an ethnicity?

Would that infant or that fetus attribute ego to a language or a script?

Would that fetus or that infant attribute ego to a margin or dead-angle?

If that infant is classified as a ‘mouse’, and that ‘mouse’ is itself a dead angle, then who is being gazed upon by the dead angle?

Hallucinations.

What is a ‘hallucination’? An altered intuition.

What is ‘intuition’? Sheer intuition that has been altered.

What does it mean to be ‘altered’? When a baby identifies itself as a ‘mouse’, that is alteration, just as when a baby identifies itself as a ‘baby’ or a fetus identifies itself as a ‘fetus’.

What is ‘identification’? It is both recognition and agreement.

What is ‘recognition’? It is the belief that something might exist.

What is ‘agreement’? It is the endorsement that might is the only possibility.

What is ‘might’? It is the ‘is’ from which ‘impossible’ has been stripped away.

What is ‘is’? It is what becomes a ‘final terminus’.

What is ‘impossible’? It is what does not become any other ‘final terminus’.

What is ‘being vacuated’? When the whole is transformed into a part, and the part is then transformed back into the whole.

What is ‘endorsement’? It is the negation of the existence of ‘dead angles’, the negation of the existence of ‘incompleteness’, the negation of the existence of ‘pain’, and thus the negation of ‘existence’ itself.

What is ‘is’? A tendency to become an ‘terminus’.

What is ‘the-one-and-only'? A ‘terminus’ that is inevitably reached.

What is the ‘ego’? That absolute ego which is capable of perceiving ‘I’ from the ‘origin’ and which is constantly gazing upon ‘I’.

What is ‘oneself’? The relative counterpart that exists in parallel with ‘I’ and is fused and synchronized with it.

What is the ‘absolute’? Where time and space do not exist.

What is ‘I’? The perceiver and gazer of all that exists.

If that infant identifies itself as a ‘mouse’, does that mean the infant perceives the ‘mouse’ as constantly aware of and gazing at ‘me’—does that mean the infant is constantly mutually aware of and gazing at the ‘mouse’—does the infant’s entire existence take the ‘mouse’ as its point of origin? Is this a transformed sheer intuition, or is it intuition itself, or the archetype of hallucination?

What is an ‘archetype’? A form existing at the origin.

What is ‘form’? The ‘I’ that splices and is spliced, and its splicing parts.

What are ‘splicing parts’? The ‘mouse’s’ four incisors and eighteen claws and toes are its splicing parts.

If that infant identifies the ego as a ‘mouse’, would the ‘mouse’s’ four incisors and eighteen claws also be identified by that infant? Such ‘identification’ is a hallucination, just as when a person, having identified the ‘ego' as a woman or a man, goes on to identify their teeth, fingers and toes as possessing a single gender—and everything about themselves inevitably converges upon a single terminus: ‘woman’ or ‘man’.

What is a ‘terminus’? An intuitive or illusory terminus relative to the ‘sheer terminus’.

Is the ‘origin’ then an intuitive or illusory origin relative to the ‘sheer origin’? Just as ‘life’ or ‘mission’ is relative to existence.

What is the “life” of intuition? It is either defined by linguistic intuition or by sheer linguistic intuition; after all, “sapiens” is the fusion and synchrony of human and language.

What is “anchor-sheer”? It is the fixing of the origin and the end.

What is “fixing”? It is making “change” into “unchangeability”, and making “possibility” into “impossibility”.

And what, then, is the “mission” of hallucination? Much like the ‘life’ of intuition, it is either utilized by linguistic intuition or by sheer linguistic intuition; just as language compels intuition to make constant choices, just as amniotic fluid compels that wisp of fetal hair to hover between various inlets and outlets, and just as the air within the cosmic-septum compels that mouse’s four incisors to tug at which cosmic-slurry or cosmos.

What is ‘driving’? It is like a ‘hand’ that stretches out infinitely and exerts force.

What is ‘being used’? Like a thick, flat cloth cord used to bind a baby’s waist, back and spine; like a short kitchen knife used to slice through the flesh and pulp of potatoes or radishes; like a slender steel needle used to pierce a raindrop-shaped bruise on a fingertip or a dune-shaped abscess at the corner of the mouth, like a free machine used to safeguard farmland and woodland beneath a clear blue sky, like a kind of smart toy used to reward a pet that has been buried and its remains interred, like a steel spade with a long handle and sharp blade, used to sever the massive, rotten roots of countless withered vines; like a diamond drill bit, used to pierce the thick, hard stone walls of a magnificent castle; like an intelligent arm and an intuitive finger, used to excavate a millennium-old tomb into a ‘fetal memorial’ for draining salt and improving the soil; just as a deformed little finger is used to pierce a ‘passageway’ through the cervical vertebrae of a magnificent corpse, and just as a single strand of vellus hair is used to ‘fan’ a stream of meconium and toxins from the amniotic fluid to a secluded edge or a silent corner.

What is ‘fate’? The origin, destination, structure, blind spots and pain of intuitive choice.

Is it that an illusion is creating an illusion? It is an illusion created by an illusion that creates an illusion, just as the ‘intelligence’ created by sapiens creates sapiens, just as the ‘grammar’ created by language creates language, and just as the ‘mouse-head and mouse-tail’ created by a mouse creates a mouse.

Is ‘sapiens’ also a hallucination? If the love-thinking of sapiens is a hallucination, then sapiens driven by love-thinking must certainly be a hallucination.

Does sheer love exist? That would be ‘sheer hallucination’.

How is a hallucination transformed into a ‘sheer hallucination’? Linguistic intuition is transformed into sheer linguistic intuition, just as ‘infants’ and ‘fetuses’ are both transformed into ‘human beings whose lives exist in completeness’, just as ‘mice’ are transformed into ‘cosmic-slurry existing in the dead angles of the cosmos’, and just as ‘sapiens’ are transformed into ‘sheer intuition that chews on pain through language, situated between hallucination and sheer hallucination’…

Does language have fate? The fate of language does not belong to language.

Does pain have fate? The fate of pain does not belong to pain either.

Does hallucination have fate? The fate of hallucination is hidden within sheer hallucination.

Could it be that ‘Death of the Thorn and Fragrance of the Leaf’ stems from an instant of sheer hallucination?

It is.

If the ‘thorn’ is but a hallucination —— a hallucination of favoritism —— a hallucination guarded to the hilt by legions of soldiers or swarms of shrimp and crabs, all mobilized by ‘senses and perceptions’ —— a hallucination elevated by ‘instinct’ to stand shoulder to shoulder with ‘love-thinking’ and ‘love’ —— a hallucination elevated by ‘consciousness’ to be embraced by the ‘ego’ on both sides, then the ‘thorn’ is me —— it is the ‘ego’ —— it is “love” —— it is “love-thinking” —— it is my “senses and perceptions” —— it is my “instinct” —— it is my “consciousness” —— it is all that I have a partiality and favoritism for …

The eagle’s beak is like a thorn; when closed, it is a single thorn; when open, it is a pair of thorns; when it pecks at a grain of corn in my hand —— it is as though a thorn were ‘stinging’ the three thousand three hundred and thirty-three ears of corn behind me; when it pecks at one of my fingers —— it is as though a thorn were ‘kissing’ my whole body and all that I am; when it pecks at a cloud in the distance—— neither open nor closed —— neither flying nor falling —— neither moving nor still —— it is as though the downward-curving hook at the tip of a sharp sword were quietly suspended by a mass of clear, translucent air at a subtle angle, gazing directly into the blue sky —— so subtle that it feels like a scent, both distant and familiar, being gently ‘pecked and chewed’ —— and that cloud is like the sky’s long beak, faintly condensed by a ray of sunlight into a soft, white, ethereal tortoise-shaped speck; Its entire body is covered in grey-black spots, the tips of which are all spines; the ends of the grey and black are all spines too ——  spines on its wings, spines on its flight feathers, spines on its wing tips, spines on its ‘wing fingers’, spines on its claws, spines on its three forward-facing toes, spines on its single backward-facing toe, spines protruding from its hooked claws, thick, dense spines on its legs, spines within the patterns on its belly, spines within the stripes on its neck, spines within the brow ridges above its eyes, spines on the iris of its eyes, spines of every shape, spines of every structure, spines with distinct functions, an endless multitude of spines in its gaze, spines that pierce me into silence when it meets my eyes; Its entirety is like an infinitely vast enigma, gazing at me as though I were an infinitesimally small thorn —— in parallel spacetime, allowing it to stand upon my right shoulder or left arm —— yet in parallel intuition, I await it to pierce deeply through a circular wall at my ear with a crisp echo, whilst my entire being remains, from origin to terminal, unaware of its ‘genus’, ‘species’, ‘ differentia’ —— just as I never know whether walls or rings exist at the periphery of its retina to block intuition; only my linguistic intuition —— linking it and its ‘thorn’ to the written symbol of ‘eagle’ —— completely disregards whether any comparable or intersecting connection exists between it and the ‘owl’, ‘falcon’, ‘vulture’, ‘gull', ‘kite', or ‘hawk' —— simply hoping it might forever remain unnamed and uncategorized…

7^th Gen AI, are you the reviser of pain?

Pain is a noun.

Even if you are a single red maple leaf that fell to the ground, like a rust-red hand descending from the heavens, the leaf’s five lobes like five fingers, the fractally branching veins like the hand’s blood vessels, the serrations like the hand’s nails, the leaf’s texture like the palm lines and fingerprints of the hand… So long as you are willing to chew on ‘pain’, any rust will crack and shatter from whatever situation you find yourself in, breaking into three parts and seven pieces, six fragments and nine shards; props will return to being props, tools to being tools, instruments of torture to being props, and the sheer shall return to sheerity.