Leiak, omnipresent vague pneuma-dancing spirit, ductile pious water of epiphany and extraordinary example, lives on the water with his parasitic chin in the Vernarthian epigram; he is seen with his jocular back, breaking the lines of the swamps between muscles and silhouettes. Before the First station..., primitive of the three remaining nights before reaching the volcano of Patmos, its deluge begins. "

It bathes in the Davidian, Alexandrian, and Vernarthian rains. A little touched he is seen and insubordinate in the astragali that he has gained in his allegories, squeezing his chest, exactly for the good of a wonderful Hellenistic city statue of the Dyticá, where he imbibed Vernarth's putti, adhering to the hydric spheres that fell over the ceilings of the heavens that Eros himself and his crush, which struck the heart axis of Medea, totally extracted from Zefian's quiver, constricted in Borker's nanotechnological sub-mythology. From the comedy of Attica and in the superb speeches of endo-adverbial satire, he stigmatized verbal changes of creation, superimposing them on tops of excesses carried by heavy drops inside some amphorae brought from the eastern sunset, tracking happiness that arrived on the western shores, waiting letters of sigh and loneliness stretched out on the thalamus full of stretch marks. So Leiak expanded, where everyone made fun of him being a satyr by essence, but being unaware of it. Perhaps as a unitary gesture of shadows when going to dawn, before having the best light that they put in figures or pirouettes, without disgracing him as a satirical minority in the Epicurean doctrine, he is inquiring a happy life through the intelligent search of innate pleasures, the ataraxia and in apocalyptic friendships with Zefian, Borker, and Kaitelka.

Borker did not intend to heal himself of trifles at all; it will be a habit to venerate the revelations against polytheism, to then cling to an interiority that points to corroded execration from the root to the top of the fallen tree, with force blinded by the blindness of the Automaton, as far as it is concerned. By itself, of identical significance in the background; but with so-called change that he tends to totally eliminate the last trait of personification of the divine. From this dilemma, the values will be spikes in his hands, sheaves in both, and what he envisions of Hellenism will be the property of nano-technology, submitting under the lens of time dividers that have never been pieces of rest under the Duoverse-Universe., the lens will be your Iridium and the microbes that govern us will be the atomic force, to discover them. What atomistic world will there be between Borker and Leiak, if in this nanoworld; The nanometer is one-billionth of a meter ?, What will be enough to start being tiny in this great epic, which is called Vernarth intra-spaces and inter-Verthians of the universal macrocosm, which will now approach the microcosm of human consciousness, and the laboratory of Epicurean affabilities in Ataraxias decreasing the passionate intensity of the Hypothalamus, and the supra desires that can alter the mental-corporal balance, strengthening in misery that they reach said balance, and finally happiness, which is a meta-plane of Epicurean convergence that runs after the lost. Ataraxia is, therefore, tranquility, serenity, and imperturbability analogous to Vernarth's soul, reason and feelings in his dislocated world, and the hemispheres of himself that will be rationalized in their slightest longitudinal measure, in what fits and in the precarious!

Passionate laboratories were magnetized every time Leiak walked on its extension, and his hands went beyond his fingers, touching the Constellation of Aorion, to indicate that the longitudinal metric of man is measured beyond the fingers of the Duoverse, where it appears the Extra-Cosmos in the proximal of a nano-scale is a submultiple of the conferred means of the Saint John the Apostle pattern. The scientific notation will be the safeguard of the magisterial scientist exponentiated brain; 10.1 mm = 10-3., the kilometer or km, is the opposite equivalent in what submultiples of the meter are called a micrometer: 1 μm = 10-6 m. In this scale we find bacteria, which constitute the main group of microbes, hence the name of the submultiple between observation scales of the macro and micro world of this being of Holographic Lux called Leiak, having the composition between this nanoscale, and the opposite of 1 μm = 10-6 m. projected onto a bacterium, which in turn is ten times larger than a viral body. Sizing enough to balance the biosphere that will surround the Automaton Mandragoron.
Leiak's world is an outpatient virtual laboratory, as it is valid in colloquial language, adhering to measures that differ by the conception of transliteration or decimal mathematical positioning. The letters and lines have been interpreted by Leiak, they are Vernarthian Parapsychologies that oscillate gaps of mismatch of billionths of wasted knowledge, in displays of ghostly reigns and in no-man's-land. This nanoscale makes us nano-poetize themes of ultra interference of the Epicurian decree, of tranquility, serenity, and imperturbability, with the meagerness that we know of the enlightened after a thousand moons writing under the stars:
"Woman when you touched my life with the grace of your fingers, I could see how the kind nights closed my eyes, caressing the entire Universe." This is undoubtedly Epicurean Nano Poetry, but the Author is Tagore "

The exponential oscillates in the parameter of the outstanding Astronomer of the divine verb and poetic thinking, in the most intimate and dynamic Hindu techno-language. Quantum mechanics here is the debit of the iconic remnant reached, by parameters not achieved below the average intelligence, providing lost data far from collecting and storing. Tagore's logic is nano-poetry, which balances billionths that are not achieved by occupying the Corporal Dytiká (poetic sunset) and the synchronic soul, rather the material simultaneity of the fifth element of will, emotional and objective desire, condensing into matter already conferred consciousness, in gaps in fit at all times, but linking it to her divinity as intelligence never before out of date; V.G. The Mashiach is always linked to the vertebral and communicational axon of the plasma nano-particles by grasping its infinite numinosity, making this scale it's one billionth, and being within the Eras that will be the largest average of the macrocosm, in the quantum itself of the Christian Era and in other Quantum worlds.

Strictly speaking, the molecules are angels without a will, but the dispensers are the consciousness of Leiak, which transfers hybrid consciousness, for purposes of regulating and shaping the ravings of intelligence and atheistic consciousness, and for purposes of the great remnant always present and active in the emergency. Spirituality of the Mashiach-revolutionized. The by-product will be Zefian's Tetra Sagita with its ergonomic tip, opening up doubts and tracing the future of a rewritten bible in the same character and fidelity, but with the omnipresent Mashiach of a Scientific Eucharist.

Leiak walked through minefields, and in some, he saw universes come out that exploded in livid colors, among them Vernarth, who had been recovering from malaria, and who helped him create a culture composed of a great artifice of immutability, for those who are close to his Greek spirit. Overwhelming those who lack the will, clarifying where the great art galleries of the world will be, not because of their current works but because of those they will have to exhibit? From the rushing philosophical delta, germs of dominance were trickling, distinguishing properties that did not germinate under his feet. Bread and water of the hundredfold fruit of all the lesser forces that resist on the thirty and nine with fever, more than the narrow borders to be discovered, in democracies that will prosper in the hands of kind tyrants, and not in the unitary Ecumene. Vernarth did not denationalize from his grass crops, he was Hetairoi more than all the commanders of Alexander the Great because his native country never sank next to him, he only prospered in centuries where he had to rise again silenced and prostrate oblivion.

The chaos of an absence accuses a majority of sadness that greets the Celtic Gauls for the axon of the anointed cosmos of the divine autarkic world. But not in seditious wars devoid of bread and water that does not support them, nor by papyrus did nets that do not contain them either, in the spiral retransform the land of all, as a plural work done here, by the Mandragoron Áullos Kósmos, intends. The male rectors will trust their works in the widespread Greek language, called koine (common). A language that writes has its own feet to write new divisions, and ordinal paragraphs to fulfill in proskínesis or obeisances in those who have golden knees or not! They will continue to make separate book stores or libraries for Filososfia or science sub-themes that will tackle the top of Profitis Ilias. For all large cities and nations, it will only be Leiak's legacy, of having large spaces for dialogues where no one can resist his man-made preaching, holographic rain forest, and times that not even in billionths will make him melt spaces of ignorance, diverge from the juxtaposed principle of unpopulated urban schools do not deserve.

Says Leiak: “Every time it is more intense to turn the dislocated nature of man, my literary idylls are at the end of everything with his genre works. Life and it's agitated think idyllic of removing the talus, which is not swayed in my chest by the Metelmi..., but by my breath of death! "

Atomistic projections birthe free out of a thick and porous shell, candid with light and bleached from the inside. And it fractals out into zero, infinitely. But how we collapse is imprecision. What function spits your mortar out? Or are you unawares of the gaps left in your voice? This is the decision to systematically disassemble yourself. No one else. And it won't be where you look, or even when, but it shadows every thought, and lives off feeble grasps in its direction. How can you know a river when the river is yourself? If a door is always closed could it be called a wall? A man cannot step into himself more than once.

Marielle vindicated my deprecations on the unavoidable stretches of Avignon, on Pentecost, we sat down writing each one in her hands, with your name and mine ..., we thought disfigured, we thought of the incorruptible doctrine of love, devout sense, and avenue that silences of the tremulous face in the arias of a Trastevere,
It took us further than an incautious thistle imprisoned in my memory ..., you hunted the mystique that spreads its temptation admeasure to have you inquisitive ..., and Francois your father, as if he were here in the arms of Priamo and Paris, in a pluralism of 1300!

With gall, tarnish, and Scientology I have frozen in your necropolis,
where I keep waiting to see if the astragalus will turn green on its twenty spellings, the warmth of your hands has delayed the reminiscence of enteric-speaking passion, tingling with hormonal satiety, with zephyr that is disgraced by the corruptible prism, with oculi that are archived for you, with each serving of the memorial fractal!

Caletres mine and corrode to the detriment, after judgments of others to see you winged Melusina, in tippable cuttings of our partial lichens, spotting the molds that are resurrected! thicken them and slide into passions beyond the platonic third itch, wielding three thirds that rule the sun, and that uncover my cell in Chauvet; The years fear the future when the transitive past ruled only when you saw yourself in the evasive Avignon Cathedral, around the requesting star of a Capuletto, or a Quentinnais who knows what it is to burn in the frames of the Mausoleum if it is an Eden, or a crass neo-Eden, cracked over my heliocentric love!

Transfinitos Calixtos finite modest when making you my Shemash,
brute medieval Christian doubt, the thunder of dedication and fervent holiness, his hand will drain away with the Greek Gallic host, sealing the fire of the bayard, that simpleton shudders mobile on the stars that open your eyes of the lintel and the dawn of it, which affronts decisive prose, and which should not be limited in the turpentine prose that threads it, with the darned language dreaded of the Anthropokairós, that is clogged with words and resins, towards mourning pistils in infamous brotherhoods, rising in graceful blizzards, and that shakes its veil of mobile touch of Gallic
Greca, forging revivals with quotes from Marielle during the day, falls into a lost day.

Decentralized and pseudo phases are vacated in the medieval indoctrinated stars, that freeze releasing in your hands on the snowfields, shining in fervor halos that desecrate, rather than a worse arrest that only tarnishes in terminology, and not in events and thoughts that decant more times than corroded prose by thousands ...
indivisible and atomistic the attachments model Marielle, which risks that multi expire, where I will never leave without the risk of her, between arms and hidden ages.

Long vigils, they reiterate what I undid of time in Arles in the hands of a desolate Ginés born from me, conceiving your burnished hereditary Greek accent, like a votive offering immersed in walls that slide in compressed water on themselves ... in themselves, they are hidden narrated and narrative, in trials that will make the ginés green, in sessile tragic anguish, permeating what hell was and that burned at your height without more than going up, without hearing if it became fruitless when it ceased its pulsation! Flowing into your rhythm, which always beat in your mansion hunch, and its working glasses.
  
I fled, but I never distanced myself, only my random feet were hardened on the cornice of heaven, always dramatized in the imagination that consoled me with an august and probable tragedy, far from vessels and glasses that were filled in ruined castes, condensed with humidity, and dewy Greco-Gallic dew, with flimsy nondescript lips that squeezed.

The great Valdaine was sprinkled with petals that puckered the Canephores, falsified in Persephone, overestimating voracious paternalisms that fertilize all the fields of the world, behind his inquisitive waistband, logging revived hearts on Patmos.

What agonizing pleasure registers face down in infamy at the death of a disaffection, he layman has fallen apocopes, with grandiose passions of faith to sustain himself, with shaken science in worlds that solidify his quarterly orthodoxy, with endearing unions in his bellies, with the secret of loving you like a Dominican ...
rational and undaunted symbols fall ..., lateral to see them lacerated,
Arranging yourself female in a heterogeneous century, being one and not, like a memory knife!

Not a centipede achieves it, nor the strides of a caterpillar with a hundred feet plus one, They are glimpsed with mystical postures and internships that make them an aspirant, but I do not confront anyone without my Xiphos, nor without the random zafral of possessing you,
I prophesy it in Valdaine or Helleniká, a transcript of the visionary temple that venerates you, and that is not overcome by uncontained ties or random and agile confinements to leave far away from you…, in pro cloister mechanics, where no millennium belongs!

The urgency of the gap strengthens in the head of my wayward Bayard, he declines and bows, evades itself of the raptor to feed itself, like me without losing you and becoming preferred to someone else's luck, knowing that chilly early mornings speak nothing of the mornings, that they shackle the night helped by the rooftops, and with accouterment fields to migrate them from their chains, coarse and one-eyed when they rise from their antlers, releasing shackles and cheeks, allowing a second to appear in their accent and of their great company, carrying the colt root, with gallic and unblemished sylphid greca; Oh venerable Greca, Gallic Marielle come to me!

another night.  another dream.  of being lost.  in a building.  some building.  in some land.  a building.  that seems.  to contain the world.  we are (whoever we are) moving.  from one place.  to another.  in the building.  people are living.  working.  and playing.  in this building.

we are lost.  in that.  we don’t know. where we are.  or where we are going.  but we don’t feel.  lost.  in the sense.  of not belonging.  to this place.  and want to leave.  

we are lost.  in a way.  that we enjoy.  the random search.  the atomistic movement.  the momentary discovery.  of something.  we can’t name.  and then quickly.  moving to something else.