The myriad of invisible
are exposed in their collection.

Form arising,
perceives light
caught in it's own shadow.

Projections balanced in space
pulse patterns through time.

Bound to one face; knowing nothing else,
subtle essence is obscured by rich contrast.

As such is form
running full spiral, far out,
illusion blocks the void.

Then, back into itself,
arrays of form align.

A vast perception conditioned
by patterns organizing patterns
organizing patterns.

One smooth Om in which all subsides
collapses to be built up again.

Whatever it does, it will do.
However it does, it will go.
Wherever it can, it will roam.

May this whole find balance to perceive itself.