Thoughts, always there, in and out like the breath of a new formed river. Fleeting but bonded with films of magnetic genome. 
They carry us and taunt, we are them and they us. 

It's part of just what's happening at the moment and we catch a glimpse. We toss our version forward and are truly grateful when we hear back. 

Listening; as a darkened room cinema, and seeing the complete blackness. There somewhere (of course floating!) is a portal so vast yet so infinitesimal, inviting to meld through and realize a certain place. 

Without boundary that brings Library's of Congress in gelled layers of inert presupposition. And we persist in our certainty. 
They can be friends, they can be altering nuisance and they are of themselves. Familiar but not fresh, these thoughts enjoy their ride along; and why not us?

Because we know it is there. We know it exists. It carries a sense of evenly synchronous wrapping that is absolutely sure and full of nothing. 

All in the midst of of ambiguously roiled deception, we are resolute in our assured plunge into the bubbling joy. 
Nothing can stop us nor should it be considered. Don't you remember it is impossible? Only now will you realize that the thought went away.