Roy Gillett

The space between each thought is a meditative infinity.

Somehow he was observing himself observing the world. And this sense of observation seemed to possess an infinitude to its essence, a multidimensional field of perception where sight was a laser that pierced the unseen.

His world was an endless juxtaposition of shadows and gold.

A meditation. Drowning in oceans of ink, looking for a wave of darkness to sculpt into the form of a personal truth, a microcosmic understanding of the infinite, a star of insight in the musing universe.

Darkness carries light in her womb. She gives birth to sun gods.

We share silences that speak fluent telepathy.

He cultivated the inner spark until it became an inferno of infinite truth.

To write in cloud across celestial papyrus, their hearts heavy with unspeakable darkness, so they bleed rain gods instead.

An ancient spirit looks through window eyes at the outside world.

He has telepathic conversations with his shadows, drawing the light of truth from their minds.

My soul is here, and it is also walking in the multidimensional park of a cosmic mind.

Silence is a library of infinite knowledge.

He wondered if he lived his own past. It felt like someone else lived it for him.

His dreams were subconscious shadows painted in hues of imagination.

Two souls in divine resonance, an alchemical union of light and darkness.

The masculine and feminine energies work together in harmonic synergy.

Silence is the unspoken god of infinite wisdom.