You are my moonlight,
the darker that my life gets,
the brighter you shine.

Astral architecture hangs on the balance of my once fragile mind, now unbound and open to the potential of the Penrose Stairs that I climb. Infinity, I thought, was an innate idea man was not meant to understand, because if the universe is in fact infinite, into what does it expand?

Standing at the precipice of epiphany, teetering at the very cusp of clarity, it came to me in a monumental moment of sibylline singularity:

It expands into itself.

The thought was too profound to perceive, too ravenous to be satiated. Could this be at long last, the answer for which I have waited?

I realized that consciousness operates under a similar uniformity: the brain won't outgrow the head, but the mind will outgrow the body, and our echoes will radiate across the endlessness of existence, for all our forgotten frequencies are oblivious to the concept of distance.

We are all limitless beneath the veil of this perceived reality,
but only there are we human, and only then are we free.

Time is not a war to be waged;
there can never be a winner.
At the end we're all the same;
the anointed and the sinner.

Take up your arms and you will find
you'll leave with less than you had;
all the fruits of your trying labor
will surely have gone bad.

Instead of changing the world around
try instead to be the change;
raise the white flag and you will earn
from a war you didn't engage.

If there's a lesson to be learned:
you need not hold the line.
All the anger and hate will depart
through the gentle surrender to time.