Perhaps everything is nothing,
So nothing can be explained
There is nothing to be contained,
Encapsulated or Divine.
Who can tell?
Who could ever tell, and so saying,
In that very telling ,
Give us a solution for The Why?
Well the chasm to that is deep,
Like as if it is a trough of time.
Or a furrow in the face of existence,
It is an incalculable truth,
Due to the size of the problem.
Any idea of an expansion serves to deceive,
Even the continuum.
If it ever were established to be mere spirit,
Nothing more would require proof.
Though the Attosecond which is longer
Than the thickness of Graphine,
Is itself but a quanta of a thought.
There is little more to doubt
Than the likelihood
Of the next breath.
To be continued?
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