Tale of Perfect Punctuation

There’s an interesting world
Where everyone is, just is.
In this story, they don’t change,

And they don’t have to travel.
It’s not that they’re fixed in place.
They lack continuity.

They’re here until they’re not here.
Then they’re unchanged, over there.
This is spontaneity,

Truly spontaneity,
Of a kind you’ve never had.
You only lose attention

In the world you think is real,
Your ocean world, endless waves,
No rest on the horizon,

Everything continuous
And slowly wearing you down,
Nothing spontaneous, change

Only quick when you don’t look,
And while you wavered, you’ve changed.
You vow to watch more closely.

Not in this world. In this world,
It’s never spooky to be
Inactive at a distance

And then right here beside you.
Hello. Gone. It’s a fun world.
Differences without decline,

Like a chess board with a glitch.
Situations switch, then switch.
Which means pieces reappear,

Including you. Who knows which?
No one ever falls apart.
No one’s lost once found in it.