When time is an echo of mountain ranges
covered in snows of barometric shadows
silences await each step
receiving with nothingness memory of being
The budget balancing time's tide
flowing through the bay
distant hope on the horizon
beingness to unknown worlds
turning away from metric tensors of temporality
The seven letters of witness to The Messiah
with the other fragments filling baskets
being and nothingness, fishermen of rainfall
semblences seeming to catch portraits of experience
viewed from within and without
When everything and nothing rushes ahead
all at once waves gather in the currents offshore
ripples of matter infused with space
sending apart ideas forever to new time
flowing to the borders of boundaries
superimposed over infinite geometric values
casting topologies of infinite forms through tomorrow
a way someplace with the point of existence
actualized in action of The One.
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