SENTIENCE DREAM OF THE PRIME NUMBER SERIES

At the end of the universe,

there sits

a huge mountain—

quiescent,

impassible,
made

of pure time;
it cannot be climbed.

But luckily, you,
though savagely beautiful,

are not corporeal. You
are no agent;

you certainly
know nothing

of the terrestrial, and your goals
are not so provincial.

You (alone, perhaps)
are perfect-

ly imperturbable;
you are

the
limitless truth—

manifesting
itself as

a brilliantly silvery
rippling butterfly.

And you travel
to infinity

to visit its high,
inconceivable peaks

spectacularly
regularly, simply

to polish
and sharpen the tips

of your
wings on them.