Is that the sound of the wind I hear,
softly blowing,
harshly screaming?
The rain, the snow, the ice, the sun,
It is the same
It is different,
It is the reality and the dream of all that there is.
Our world,
the very universe,
is multipole moments, without beginning, without end.
The lemniscate roads we travel lead us on,
and lead us back to the place from whence we came.
It is all;
It is nothing;
It is the axiom of choice that makes life possible,
that makes it impossible,
that makes it beautiful.