I am dipped below the horizon, in some pool of thought below the surface line of notions. What are dreams? Sometimes they cannot comfort you, even when their visage can you breathe life into, somewhere in the world that is real. The hole in my heart is not God-shaped, for there is evidence of such light within me, there, always, as it has been these years gone on. Perhaps it is all nothing, a glitch in the software that will bubble out and de-res into the vanishing past… I do not know. Something tells me that there will be a lifting of all this soon, in some how: I do know that even deep events must pass, even infinite inertias must move. Tonight I will sleep and dream something else. Tomorrow I will wake and walk back into the daylight.