Beyond Sense

My brain is the haunt of a naked Curiosity that has lured my soul across the purple bars of sense, beyond the last outpost of Reason, where I know not if I be I. Lights quicken and wane, glooms thicken around me and break into lean and hurrying Shapes--supraterrestrial phantoms, spectral norms of this world and vague patterns of things not yet become. Forest of branching selves, my various masks, my serio-comic souls, my antique, half-remembered egos: are ye that? And here I now stand peering tensely curious into the crater of Eternity, seeking out Demiurge there in the depths, When the truth flashes on me: I am but fume, spew, from that Depth-- I and thee, all, but fantastic smoke-shapes flitting above the crater of Eternity; And Demiurge, muttering, retreating, advancing there in the Depths, is but the shadow of Me the Curious One.