Who will declare the he last last long longing of soul and the vast nothingness? What is the soul of a hypnotized existence-its like a burning light shinning eternally on the verge of some eternal time, like the serene jingle of some illuminated spring, like the lonely breeze blowing through the sensuality, like the secret words spoken in the shade of some sanctified cave. Its in the womb of an oyster in the deep deep ocean,
its flickering through the temple door with soulless sign, the sweetness it conceives is eternally eternal. It's like something which has no power to speak, to make a single word, to feel the jejune life in copulating and in breach. It's like the willingness of some willing deity:
