So is every spectacle roving over my mind as my hands engraves, its rhythm recapitulates to weave multiple traces that witnessed time and space were coming into resonance, and, commingled.
What sustained, were those fugacious tinctures drifting slowly downwards, and inlaid in my mind.
A recollection that riffled with an irregular crescendo, and diminuendo.
What was, there is.
| Details |
Nature is such that through the interaction, lucidity flashed at intervals.