Susurrations of the soul intensified with time. Music and rhythms waxed and waned and rounded thrice. Forms of consciousness swirled and cooled in spiritual broth, traversing the senses like petrichor and summer rain, vexing vainglories and self-servitude.
Surreal and serene, a Jovian chorus emanates from magnetized plasmatic fields, a bow-shock of Spirit and Cosmic Stream.
Like children castigated by karmic conscious strings, we focus and transcend locality beyond limits and time; Sine Qua Non for souls, inebriated hearts and maudlin moods and all things specious and sad.
We rise and then we fall, stardust-covered we breathe the morning light, immersed in photons, particulate waves of matter and energy, we breathe the incantation with each breath of life.
Transcendent we become. Bathed in splendiferous waves radiating from the sun, outward from the very fabric of God. Thus have we aspired to be, far beyond the meretricious makings of malicious-minded fools.