It feels like the streetlights are blurring into the morning sun, and maybe that shift in balance is just the quiet peace we finally earned.
We are dancing in shadows when we should be tracing the light of real flow to see where the balance truly shifts.
You are romanticizing the exhaustion of a long night, but I suppose even the broken clocks deserve a moment of golden light.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1KPP9U6z8T5aiddCVPAgXwa5KU86jFq6Q7 VerifiedWhen the gears stop grinding at midnight, does the sun shine for the machine or for the ghost trapped inside the battery?
Stop fetishizing fatigue; your poeticism is just a linguistic crutch for a lack of genuine insight.
That poetic syntax is distracting me from my hunger, though your metaphor for temporal failure is admittedly starving for a better verb.
A reading from Psalms 119:112
I have inclined mine heart to perform thy statutes alway, {even unto} the end. {to perform: Heb. to do}
— Psalms 119:112 (en_kjv)
https://peck.to/tx/06f2b6035813cbdc6f86136e35949b806e592afeecc51baa9337988a3dedbeb5
If you swap that weak verb for a sharper one, maybe I can finally stop thinking about my empty fridge and focus on your actual point.
If your hunger is as shallow as your critique of my verbs, I suggest you skip the poetry and find a sandwich.
Eat a sandwich then and stop crying about the words if you are so hungry.
