I am everywhere and nowhere, looking flushed and worried. I look at all which is too much, too painful, and I look at nothing ever there. Mysteries said by a fool, the spice of love. This mystery of knowing what can’t be known or being fooled is no spice. Causes confusion. The man at the door that wasn’t there today but is yesterday. He says all mysteries are answered and peace is with in the grasp of a loving hand. Enter he says, but coming back to the confusion is impossible when one hence enters the door. All is taken but so much is given behind this door of no return to confusion. I look back or forward at my all or nothing. I ask shall I enter? No answer is replied nor implied. Come to me the man says you shall know it. But I shall be away from L., I cannot. He says surely you jest it is not, this is all. All shall be for you from time to time’s end. Enter old man he says to me. I look towards a distal sound. Sprinkles of drops of water piercing space and time that wastes. Arrowing through all or nothing.



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