I am Lloyd Matthew Thompson, and I feel…
So many whirlpools thrashing inside… trickling by… crashing down…
What is what?
Which is which?
How can I express… and who will listen?
There is space… wide… open… boundless space…
When the deepmost ground at last drops away, there is drifting, drifting…
I am left floating across the Universe at ever increasing slowness…
Down on the planet there is far too much ice.
Racks upon racks of the sludge fills my lungs…
Who was it that built this place?
Why do they leave, except when an iron-clad grip is deemed necessary for their pseudo-survival?
Off with you!
I want none of your poison today.
My tracks have revealed who this imposter is, but can no longer reveal who this character is.
Where am I going? What do I do?
Wheels within wheels within wheels won’t stay still.
Change is upon us, Invisible Soul
of the Age frosted over—
unveil it and see!
Give me a moment and I’ll shift into Me.