In my tent,
I create and I invent.

And in my tent
I peel,
The images of my senses,
In an attempt,
To reach the grounds,
At which my conscience can’t extend to prevent my memory,
From joining the potential of two extremes.

To look at the judge’s vacant seat
Makes being at two opposites at once, real,
Zero indeed -time leaves-
So as I approach this final shade.

And when everything now
Feels colorless, tasteless, odorless, mute,
And all of that
A legend alarms the shadow of night,
So just to strike my tent with light.

Imagine a subconscious in too deep,
As a divine dream rises to capture the universe and its deities.

A voice from far and near sounds as if it is coming from outside,
And simultaneously from within me says:
“Enter thy dream.”

I enter.

I dream.

Filed under: 🜃 Infinite – exploring the unseen forces behind creation, truth, and existence.