A deep silence unfolded itself away from me. Again and again, like an infinitely intricate origami blossom, it opened itself up. Layer by layer, it revealed its original emptiness. As it unraveled, a nervous desperation arose. Quicker and quicker, it clawed wildly in the darkness, gasping for contact. Its passion, primal and undirected, was inexhaustible as it tore through the boundlessness of space. Its brilliance was a blazing inferno, painfully beautiful to behold.
As this profound radiance enveloped me, in the stillness of that lonely night, I sat upright, entranced, engrossed in its unconcerned daring; it was a wind, demanding and tiresome, playfully howling through the corridors of the mind; it was an ancient ocean, flowing, wave upon eternal wave, hurling itself up and burying itself deep; it was a mountain, cold, forlorn, immersed in a sea of clouds, quietly sweating, lost in thought; it was a fire, meticulous, unbiased, rapaciously stripping away any evidence of its existence.
Its violence crescendoed. I was unaware of my breath, of time, or even of my existence. So captivated was I, that I would not have noticed if I had died. But in my folly, a single thought arose: what exactly was this? In that single thought which grasped for comprehension, my eyes were sliced open, leaving me once again, sitting awkwardly, in my lonely room.