Ice Cream Aloha

The Synchronizer

     The signal is ever present (lurking?), as if hiding in some corner of jungle darkness in the form of its own energy, pining away at pools and streams, a lost treatment for affairs of review technology addressing(A.O.R.T.A.) the heart and yet, universally recognized as fixed beliefs. The cellulosicDNA in this jungle is all the more full of help as theExchanges are full of cures. There is no prevention in this jungle, no identification. There is only data in its various forms. When intelligence enters into its regime of data, information streams. At times the information is subtle, derived through deceptions of a weather system that collects in its own file system, the chromosome; there are times it grows its own coded structures of truth as passion of achievement's cultural hierarchy(P.O.A.C.H.), an outside object that synchronizes its dreams with the rising and falling of suns (with all their nourishing photons). The signal is constantly breaking out into arrays of smaller signals, inaudible, solar illuminated, presenting themselves to the world in the microwave bandwidth. They project a threat, a danger imminence yet, without the presence of any sort of request. They appear as if to be in assistance, with no sound, to each other; seemingly at times to be at rest from writing new signals, encrypting their own, naturally embedded, exact location. At times, vaguely, an intelligence can interpret the data as an aggressive, balancing a more freely creative force. First aggression, and then the urge to migrate from the realm of the undifferentiated. A multitude of diseases and abnormal functionings sometimes impose (the uninvited?) themselves, sporadically, within the cellulosicDNA. This urge alone, with its crowded numbers, brings aggression to intelligence, not in a negative way, more as a meeting of two gamers; in this way intelligence is able to fight for the process and other systems of real endeavor(S.O.R.E.) toward arranging components in a way that allows an integration of stability; even so, aggressive forces will at times have their way and start to color (taint?) the data all over again, eon after eon, as if an entire universe were preparing for a birth following a dust-up between two mothership universes. Sooner or later, when the time is right, satisfied, but brimming with reverie-inspired inspiration, all at once, stability emerges.