The morning comes along with a thundering boat steaming through the ice, breaking and crushing all that it encounters. Chairs of motherly comfort in the hallucinations of the gasping corpses edging on the brink of existence, not knowing they would fade even more–that which is thought to be impossible. To fade is to stop being the essence captured by tissue trained to imprison. Cells which hold so dearly to the ego, for it is I that thinks and exists, not realizing that its harmonic oscillation is merely a reflection of the so-called external. That which is outside of this universe is unseen, and that within, is all that is internal and by definition connected. Existence Is, and Being is a conglomerate of vibrations between the frequencies of heaven and hell. Attune to the divine, and become the root note which all others notes relate to and rely upon; with this you’ll carry the song of life.
The Realm of Indifference 