This place is not my design, yet it is me. I have become the impersonal and cannot look at anything without being absorbed. I see the smallest flower, then that flower is me, then stillness washes over us draining color, life, and being. Giving all that is unnameable.
I know this is vague. Be quiet. You are a drowned body floating in the sea and a sea that watches, dimly recalling the life of a man.