an expansive lightening storm below and before a black universe, filled with stars.....
at great distance of Sea, behind tropical forests of a singular immense island,
uncharted in this World, unknown to all others, thrust aeons before the great land masses;
inhabited by float-away travelers, things from the sea and sky....rare and arcane beings,
unlike the things to come and go, lost before the future, and remembered by imagination.

t'was Veristes, from whom this writer takes a nom de plume, that, from it's frozen sleep,
sought heat and life to manifest as I, yet do I not embrace the transmutated form
or any conscious being but the who I am, much less the who might have been, or would.
Thus being in one shell fit enough for a while, becoming, being and leaving relics and ideas like these.
And images by a lens between a self, others and what else is seen, remembered, ciphered and put away.

as the storm becomes, in its leaving, evanescent, even forgotten, as the lifeless void
fills even more with infinitude marked by the countless stars
in the observable space without the inside,
the wavey space beneath the eye's horizon seem the equal, undulating mirror of that fractal cosmos,
it's crests drawn to the moon and to the all there is, until that's felt by that all,
before the crashing, in no time, back to nothing.

Narcotic Basement by Mystified