His mind waited trying to decide if it were asleep or dead.
For this sleep seemed like death and death like a mere sleep.
Knowledge was on an exile
Voids sparked from voids
In his mind,
there was no turbulence
yet no peace
In his mind,
there was no activity
yet no rest
In his mind,
there was no light
yet no darkness
His mind lay lost somewhere
between life and death
Between dream and sleep
his mind lay lost somewhere
For in that hour before time had realized herself
life had not yet died
and death was but just born
For in that hour before time had realized herself,
life held death in a lover's kiss
and death clasped life in a passionate embrace
The mind of the unborn artist held its breath in infinite patience
waiting to come into existence.