164

while sitting there, waiting for his lunch,
he began to ponder his options.

but no matter what he came up with
it always came down to pouring
from the empty into the void.

.
.

163

the world always appeared to offer a choice:
one could plunge into it
or simply skate across its surface—

either way he was left gasping for air.

.
.

162

it became increasingly apparent
that transcendence and immanence
were actually synonymous.

.
.

161

beauty has no memory.

.
.