My crown is gone. Severed by a stroke of lightning. My brain is exposed to the torrential downpour of black tears. My brain is coated by the ash of burnblack feathers. Our Fathers, who have fallen from Heaven, hallowed be thy tongues.
One world. One people. One thought. This is the singularity of human experience. There is no darkness but the light of unity. There is no light but the darkening of ego. Yes, now, lower your lantern. Put out the sun. Take my hand.
I have seen your face, King of Babylon.
You have seen all of our faces. We are nothing more than mirrors.
Nothing more? Then, what do we reflect? Where did that light come from? Are we a gemstone of infinite facets, and our purpose is to perpetuate that gleam of light—back and forth, back and forth.
Light is an illusion.
Caused by the aberration of sight? Much like the sensory abomination of hearing? Or that tempestuous terror of taste? What about the sensual deviance of touch? Yes, are they all illusions?
There is no need for them in the 15145918159.
Of course not. There is no need for anything here, because every need can be met. Which, in turn, means that dreams have both no purpose and every purpose. Everything and nothing. Beginning and end. Aleph and Tau. If I have everything (if I have nothing), then what can you offer me? Come on, King of Tears, you're going to have to try harder than that.