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Fiery this tempest.

The stories are everywhere….in the sounds we hear and the air we breathe…The particles that become the waves, the ice that becomes water then to steam and air, and it all seems beyond primordial…It is cosmic that we collide Here, into these forms and shells, but sifting through the ashes and spans of a time and a space…All dimensions at once, but not everything at once, the details separated into each their own realm in the collective continuous…No walls Here except for the real world, aka the material world, but those are superimposed of our own devices…The decision being to further covet space into smaller and smaller places…To define thought as just another room to enter…Daring the social to go beyond the many, and pushing the boundaries of what is Here…The space between shadows, and the space in between those, the particles that sing through the passageways and patterns of wherever we are…Words can be considered particles though it is difficult to see their meanings deeper than the shallow surface of the material…Explaining nothing never looked so good…

Thanks, khet.