To sleep or wake, that is the issue. Only the secrets you keep from yourself matter, and they remain – Secret – until the others you cling to, are no more…
Half awake half asleep, I close my eyes and gaze upon the picture, of us staring face to face, the universe and I, and it seems now also you.

There is a word for this, what it is, still unknown, but I shall speak it in four lines. I shall write it in four lines for you to gaze upon. I shall window-dress these lines, in utter humility, three with broken infant rhyme. The third, as a matter of suspense, shall not rhyme but rather push and pull, a meta-graphics device, preparing in subtlety, a departing implication of infinite return. But I digress, here then the lines
I present and beg you to speak out loud:

This great orbit, its folly and spin
the dream and surrounding mind
is an axis shining out space
where we shadows end and begin.