The thread, the gut wrenching feeling that pulls your strings of being.. Ignored by logic and strewn into obscurity of illogical nonsense disguised as the nonsense of time. We neither see nor listen to the chiming of time within ones soul. For if seen maybe a reaction of existence to meaning may come into fruition. Those that don’t ignore their very own pull are few and far between.. But what a sweet nectar they drink. Mine is the observed yet serving to come.