Tonight again, to that dead space
where all the world’s untold greatness lies
beyond the grasp of its men
A realm of, at once, every branch never taken
unbirthed arts, undared ventures, unspoken loves
All the fruits that withered here on earth
grow heavy in that place, pregnant and fit to burst
That place
That perfect place of ideals and ideas and concepts
Perfect in its evermorphing formless forms
Configurations that contort within the ether
Free from human flaws, untainted by nature
Boundless potential, unactualisable
The collective un-concrete unconscious
that never-was and never-will
That dead space of dreams and aborted lives
Tonight again, to that space
abdulj. 