Nothing.
Then there is one.
And with time one understands that there is an other.
One kills the other,
One weeps the other.
For he is now alone and nothing ever will.
Nothing.
Then there is one.
And with time one understands that there is an other.
One kills the other,
One weeps the other.
For he is now alone and nothing ever will.
At the door of the wormhole, seeing feels like being.
Feeling becomes external.
Being is absence.