In the name of All-Knowing, I’m decoding the prism that bent light into fate. A door with no frame appears — why does the void fit so perfectly? The void which is in-between of omni-present, Where I’m just a seed that wants to remember which way is up. Just like a smoke that remembers the fire, I was once a Gh0st that forgot that it died. I broke that mirror, but why can I no longer see my eyes? Was I ever known? What fills me now? The shape of what is missing is the key to lock my memory away. I’m that rain which poured the river out into the ocean to drink myself — but what was the cloud that wept me?