At this late date in history of the incoming of the leveling of the Logos, the Technos, and the fire.
After so many monks and scholars and lovers have repeated, repeated, repeated the same words, naming the same eternal things, all one voice, one word, one heartbreak.
Before the last turning, and it is finished.
In this late night attempt to think to reach that thing yet unthought, that one thing, that unreachable.
That thing that I have discovered I have already thought and reached many times the same, gone into my past, sweet memory, existing because right now I have laid it out, the many voices, the one voice, then and to come, down, here in strange syntax. Time typing playing around my fingertips. A thread pulled out of my spinning mind.
My mind a momentary exemplification of the one brooding thinking, laughing, leveling, reaching sweet heartbreak.