and becomes fully aware of its own existence
when one no longer thinks of oneself as singular
but part of the overflowing monster
when one becomes lucid like the coolness of blades
when one swims through one's own confusion
towards the light
then the paradoxes of every living being,
word, action or creation
ascend from the subtle depths of reason
the world which is the world
only as I know it
is mine and it will stay still
until the end
the world which is my world
takes place only inside me
in my enormous theatre of suspension
where meaning falls into patterns
creating more meaning
about nothing
I realize then that the light
soaring from the foam
is only the left over glitter
of a memory that is not mine
