An other, outside of life, a gleaned sum stacked into towers that could never topple because none ever amounted to a single stone. This thing that, despite our best efforts to love, often reminds us of a need to be contrary for the sake of being anything. Still, all who attempt creation despite decay carry a noble hope to never condemn the world to an absolute knowing. If described, heavier than ethereal may come close to the tock implied in it’s tick, however neither like now and right now. Obsessed only with the capture of this resurgent thief I am attempting to draw a circle around with this passage’s entirety knowing somehow, very well, that it cannot be contained. There. A phantom force lodged between complacency and rebellion. The enigma itself unraveling eternity for the sake of an intersection I cross on nights where I could swear I was never a body floating without need for up, down or any direction because here all things reside in transit. And it's here, with all my weight, I vanish.