A peacock arrives with no feathers on the dawn of broken human density, held only by the gravity of the mind,
In flux with all things,
Your possibility is your demise,
And yet a pathological transformation is accruing without the thought of that which is neither action nor reaction but a passion of interactions with the universe that is grasping to put you into her infinite embrace of wisdom and light,
To planes far greater than petty beings can imagine on a merely three-dimensional abstain.
Contemplate to step outside your brain.