Chimes of summer's breeze - ring out - calling long-distance.
Flaws equidistant to the mirror reflect shadows hidden beneath small egos.
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"Who is calling please"?
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Operator responds to bionic voice - digital monotone repeats a recorded recorded, "It is I".
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Half-witting, stumbling half-sober, the mind succumbs to what it believes to be reason.
Open shaft - tunnel of birth - light breaking through obstructions.
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"No" repeats the voice "life has no instructions".
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Stumble upon the great mystery, the mystery of all mysteries, there are no mysteries.
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Haphazard as it seems.
Resolve all madness in dream.
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"Who is calling please"?
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"It is I"
