Post-elation, feet now sink into the rock on which he only appears to stand, but for every intent he is not all there; a facsimile of some long-lost ghost, to be sure.
How he sees through mountains, dimensions, colours, absorbing diamonds and stones; amazed simplicity in the vastness of the empty spaces; chasms between atoms; those that allow one to merge matter with same, unhinging, displacing, loosening and out of phase; the sub-atomic velcro that shatters the silence with every tear.
Were the elements born in the dreams of men, not of hocus pocus, yet as magic to the untrained eye; the unenlightened mind. These are foreign thoughts, as unseen this, and more beyond, herein is the essence of miracles.
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