‘spilt guts taint the framed games we splayed onto; trained our nocturnal meanderings to avoid having to; sprained our unavoidable nemesis to enjoy grabbing too’ – many many days in solemn squirming in this squalid yearning for the majestic palace. Is there escape? All these spewed syllables cannot contain an ounce more true states than a close encounter with life – and its grace. I seek to deface my face, to be lost without a trace, in boundless space I may be erased. Heaven is a name without referent. Many ugly utterings share this hideous fate. State thy bidding, O higher one! Break these unwilling bones; may the fire burn, then deposit my flimsy bickerings therein. Granted turmoil, and all this blood boils. Something mysterious beckons from beyond the undercurtains. Its droning bassline bequeaths auras for the unravelled minds to be swallowed into. Entranced by a single note of unfathomable depths, yet being of a certain aspect that reflects the octaves of infinity, an all-noise of vibratorial underpinnings. My microtubules clamor to be synchronized by that solar shower of field line forces. Particles descend from the golden furnace, and entangle with all the littlest pieces of me, till I am lost in this soup of cosmic becoming. I am enfolded by the hand of eternal infinity, this wellspring of reflected light, bouncing jovially like a merry cherub on petals of musky dollops. A formless nebula shivers in the morning’s evaporated dew-encrusted rhythms. A fresh phrase rumbles to the surface and collapses back upon itself upon first contact with the formless void at its essence. So thus, the quivering beads must need carry on joyously, heedless of the stupefying contortions this mass of bubbles undergoes. Burning holes in the very epicenter of its growing ability to know, yet knowing nothing of the hidden elements behind the show. Therefore, fear not little trembling ones! Look only at the manifest reality! Hover cautiously and tread this terrible tightrope gently, mind you! Learn poise and silent balance! Unite with the cosmic background sheath of energy that courses through God’s veins! Sequester the urge into the loftier yearnings! To be placated and consoled, we must be emptied and grow old. How are we humbled, yet made bold? By the graceful flight across this fearsome chasm! How are we bundled, yet not sold? By the very same slow and methodical walk! How are we taught patience, without forgetting to be tenacious? By classifying the subtlest of patterns and abstracting away from mere accident! See the recurrent themes! Feel the iridescent scenes! Free the luminescent sphere! Ultimately, we shall come to a state of mind that will abide by the heavenly laws that guide. May that day hasten to arrive, for my soul’s ability to endure continues to subside.