Known, let it be--of sight inhaling the fragrance of roses...of touch hearing the impactful sounds of stones sacramentally tasted. The senses shall be as misappropriated goods in an open air market--coveted by a Singularity that shall bore them away. By blameless necessitation what sense took its turn of sense...called upon by a thoroughgoing life. That life solemnly sworn to solidified places of light--whose need of need, aggrieves not its reversion to light, but shines upon flesh's folding. As every burden reaches for its reason, reaching what's unburdened by virtue that reach. As Virgil guided Dante through the dark wood, he was once guided to offer guidance, the unbreakable watchfulness of crossing paths. Of guides, there are many--untold many, that the idea of emptiness at any given moment, is merely an interchangeability from fullness...ebulliently so. The senses shall be as misappropriated goods in an open air market...coveted by a Singularity that shall bore them away.