…the True Subject celebrates the True Subject’s own redemption in illusion.
Inscribed in the epact one pretends at life, antheses
amaranthine. Sotto penult sleep eloign eloign. Alack
on waking increate with aition’s honed travail honing.
Resume. Repetend. And yet beyond the isinglassy
integument of what is seen the temenos is no
more or less nostosed or nostered than the temenos
intercalated upon waking to this deadly
magnificat. In praise of the illusion one must tread
treadfully in the wake in the shoals. Everything will look
the same except a human never lived, factitious
fictile humans too even. Earth envelopes Earth or vice
versa no matter. Temblor.