Simplicity that never was. It had the potential to be so easy, like dripping sweat that had hardened half way down the pole. The hemisphere is no longer apt, it was intro-imagined, whereas I believed it could last longer. On the other side of realism and a cube with 9 sides. It does work. Throughout the haze, there was nothing, even when it cleared, I saw nothing. But me standing as a paradox for my self's self. Selfless and self driven, the ground was shaking and it kept on dreaming until I was surrounded by nothing but grey. There was red writing, on the stone that was cast by he who had no sin. He died. And heaven comes again. (This was my dream)