A Mind, through a mind . . . like a wind through another wind.
Patternless. Unknowns on the rise.
As touches of sound disappear, the guardrails dwindle.
Discontinuance of your same, personal interruptions. Is it still ‘you’? Existence – without consulting your playbook. Is that even allowed?
Steepness vanishes . . . when you look upward.
The Infinite 