The chimes of the fairy plots onward bound for the farthest realms of immaterial inquiries into vagaries of fantastical phantasm agoria phobia that ransacks all but the gentle-persons. To survive the imminent destruction is a cause for considerable anxieties of the masses and the massive alike. Forces of electricity encroach and invoke strokes of activities to mute the most exuberant among us. Channelling the trans-emotional languages of unprovable decalogs belongs to the long logs of logos emerging from the nexus of indra’s internet. Enunciate the ineffability of all this contrivance by using commonalities or unheard of profanities, it amounts to no more than mechanical reductionism in all cases, atomist traditions traced back to pre-linguistic dawns. The closer we zoom in the more vibrational the rhythm becomes, from vision to vision, towards unseen knowledge we’re driven by carts that are hidden in plain sight forbidden. The masses are at war, the high hedonia unwelcome at their priestess’s tables, drowned all the same in the red juices of anaerobia. The true holy man, the prophetess, the sober eyes, the rapturous soar, ionizing radiation emanating from a smile, tranquilizing confrontations with images and signs. Spacetime the too claustrophobic womb. Matter the too heavy burden. Light the too blinding furnace. Burn us all to ashes to be scattered into nothingness, swallowed away into the maw of a supermassive black hole. Our paradigms are phase shifted and oftentimes we’re uplifted. Matrices have come and gone within matrices coming and going upon matrices yet to come and go. A giant turtle encapsulated by its own ancestry of burden-bearers. All gives rise to all, all consuming all. One creature is all there is, ravaged by its cancerous autoimmune state of self-destruction, schizophrenically split and enthralled by the illusory reflections cast on each of countless bubbles, rising to the surface and disappearing in multitudes upon this troubled body of water. Generations of organized metabolism process onwards in blind mechanical stupor until the neuron began computation. Then was the special point in time? Light is believed to have penetrated through to the dead inanimates. Hypostases breathed through their nostrils, in fact. Immanent and transcendent, say others. Light throughout endless time, yet always outside of time, strangely. The whole of time is contained within one breath-moment, they say, and all breath-moments do not yet fill up infinite time. A lotus universe dreamed by vishnu, cycling through the eye-blinks of brahma, is itself contained in the heart of a lotus dreamed by a greater vishnu, sitting on the banks of a river flowing through yet another lotus. The trans-scale infinity of fractals. Red rivers discoloring by loss of precious and burning gasses, a common red thread handed down the generations umbilically. All one life form undergoing transitions unfathomable to the over-rational. While separation in space and time through causality, webs of interpenetration entangle the particles of all matter. And organized life seems to speciate and diverge, though from a common ancestor, but the placental package provokes a powerful presentation of personhood. Many-ness is the kaleidoscope’s trick, that conjurer’s lens. Nature the lazy, or the frugal? Spellcasters have been reciting the ancient incantations for ages before sages came to clarify our situations. And seers are they that see for all the blind unmoving trees. We suck at the earth till we grow stiff with deposits of surpluses. Our abuse is of no use to our underlying dilemmas and in fact is the fuse using which we’re obliterated. And this ruse shall not last for much longer but shall devolve into either of many scenarios. The transitions, like excisions, alter everything. And the products are no longer decipherable. Every time had once been called the future time, has called itself the modern time, and later came to be called the ancient time. But this assumes hindsight in absolute quantities, impossible given cycles of eternity. Any way we go is the way we have always been going, and any time it is is the only time that exists. Speed is the spatiotemporal ratio, and always a fraction of c. Light links the largest possible spaces with the smallest possible times, in other words, simply because of the way it navigates that differential geometry. Everything else is doomed to smaller spaces or longer durations. The more stuff in us, the smaller the spaces, the longer the durations, is Alby’s rule. And that experimentalist who heard God’s thoughts in these laws was instrumental in using the instruments of cosmic observation. Finally, a mystic science is inevitable for one transitioning from rigor to chaos, nonetheless not abandoning the beauties of reason.