Walking down a corridor as dark as blindness,
But for a flickering source of illumination.
In these moments devoid of visual information
Alone with my thoughts.
I think...

Maybe the universe (It) exists intermittently.
Ceasing to be amidst states of being.

Maybe this cantor dust reality
Wears a façade of continuum.

I shall never know.
For such knowledge demands
My presence in Its absence.
Which shall never be
For both in absence and presence
I and It are one.

Here I slip through the web.
strands morphing,
Splitting into alternate narratives,
Knotting into irresolvable chaos.
Back once again in the dark corridor.

Maybe I'll catch a loose strand  
The next time I walk down
A corridor as dark as blindness,
But for a flickering source of illumination.