There is this utter meaningless rendering surrounding the world in which I am thrown into. It is, as if, an abyss but there is no sense of depth - just the flightless feeling overwhelming the strength of my knees. If at a turn I am to be defeated and I take to kneeling for a prayer there is no sensation of plight either. It is vast emptiness, an ocean of vacuum in which I find myself. There, it is something - but any lurch towards it results in nothing. Over there, here, there is something here and yet no proximity can lend me within reach. As my skin crawls over me, crumpled and stretched to the limits by this emptiness I find while in my presence I am something; somehow, some way this drop-less ocean defines who I am and what I am doing here. Yet, there is only a premonition of purpose and nothing more. There is just a whiff of something to do and nothing more. There is just hope, and nothing more. No mechanism, no physics by which to make a move - to move clear of this vacuum and to even begin to commence search for solid ground. There is no flag here. And if there is darkness then there maybe light but there is no light here and consequently no darkness either. Although, there is every possibility that I could see something I do not see anything. There is every possibility, my consciousness swears by it, that there maybe someone else here - another breathing body, another body in need of touch - as naked, as lonely and as terrified as me, there is nobody else. I have this nagging suspicion of being tethered but without any oscillation and no tug from the other side of the line. In this world I am, and in this shall this life be.

What matter of it,
if the love has fallen free
what matter of it,
that in disdain i am free
what matter of it,
that hands are all but clean
what matter of it,
what matter of it.

if the substance is no more,
if the being is only a hole,
if the energy has not score,
if the beauty is a bore
what matter of it,
if no face has found me free,
what matter of it,
if solitary is my only tree,
what matter of it,
if earth and rocks are only dreams,
what matter of it,
what matter of it.

if this case forever alone,
if this is forever told,
if this is hitherto known,
if this is forever my own.
what matter of it,
what matter of it.