if there was  
a point
a dot and a drop of ink on paper
for time was not linear
wasn’t the continuum we knew
it was somewhere
where
eye’ve lost it.

any associative tendency
from my self
towards anything
detached
maybe party
didn’t intend to stop, so
all that remains (fo) now  
is the name of my higher
‘self’
divine name
the mystikai.

no kabbala
not ready
far from being
this subtle
not into the ways of attaining it
left-handedly
although that’s what eye’m becoming
depicting
something so pointless
so clearly.

and shading it
painstacking-ly.