A Rememberance of What Will Become

Here at the boundary layer, through the polarized dust of the resonating frequencies of a planetary sheath, the Schuman-Telsa Cavity is lit within the black void of space as a proverbial transducer, a vacuum tube filled with the noise of electromagnetic storms in centripetal diffusion, whirling and animating lifeforms created by this membrane. As the gravitational return of energy pulls to the push of starlight reconciled by our steps along this spherical surface, the lone voyager asks can the mind exist without relationships, referents and comparisons? Is it an illusion as Time itself has proven to be? A biochemical fire that is the mind that eats and is eaten, suspended by a strange digestion process for a time in a medium, propelled by a momentum that is as impersonal as a pebble? The attraction and repulsion of a contingent state makes the cellular nest of the mind spin in it's rotation in the context of a transmigration to a new context of materiality in a universe of universes where one fits as a state and station upon a forest of trees that are the planets we alight upon as stepping stones in becoming the chessboard itself whose riddle has no destination, no end game in mind in the provinces of worlds.

Perhaps in a more macrocosmic aggregate sum, of  such relationships the geometry of the vacuum tube is the boundary of this Universe as it expands in the complexities fed by suns that are fed and eaten by the conducting wires of black holes rent into the fabric of yet other variations of our own. Perhaps a T is not crossed, an I not dotted, a comma inserted where a period should be a state and station of  transception, an element created or unnecessary....One could assert that nothing exists without contingent relationships and yet the patterns the shadows of the material at hand assert a incommensurable sum, leaving the lone voyager to discount his provincial solipsism of the rube, despite the underwear of his neurology having the stains of self reference and it's aggrandizement,  in attempting to have a peek at the non existent world that now becomes all around him without a path, without repeatable results or fitting comparisons.
The village of humanity is nestled in the flanks of cartography, distant, vibratory, resonant with it's networked conduction of starlight with the particulate matter of dust called forth from decayed vegetable matter, to animate a snow globe shaken by the waves of sunlight pushing clouds across it's dome without a predetermined destination.

A voice said you must surrender all that you possess to purchase life, for as a transactional commodity your currency has no worth other than what you discern as being pragmatic tokens of a valuation in order to be understood by your own kind.
How strange said the voyager, a kingdom without territories, ruling monarchies, any set ordering, no languages of comparison no foundation for a foothold yet to be imagined, a place that is becoming rather than a marked geography.
The boatman sat on the flank of the bowsprit smoking his pipe as the ship rocked gently to and fro docked as it were in the ephemeral realm of empirical  phantasms that the imaginable had constrained to be tied with as a rope holding the transit in a dream scape.
"It's a gift not to be held." He said somewhat impatiently.. "It belongs to no one and cannot be possessed unless one is possessed by it, depended upon whether you are the hunter or the hunted.. Neither will do."