But tell me again… What process? 

I’m sure there is one.

One process in many. Many processes aligned.

As one from many can be discerned in galaxies forming clusters and super-clusters, and super-clusters arc around in an alignment illustrating “attraction.”

The pull of process.

But tell me again, what process; for me, here, now, how and where have I processed? Is this question but a scabrous quest for some blotched confirmation?

Thought only arrives at the end of ideas.

Ideas exhausted and withered to vacuity; now may the thinking narrative begin.

Beginning but as thoughts; therefore thoughts be shriven in the white emptiness of mind.

So too, mind. Of course the white emptiness of mind reveals itself as an idea.

The revealed idea seeking a thought and thus processing toward its own exposure.

To the outside of the outsideness of things. To be exposed to the outside.

And the outside is itself, thus

it ceases.

It ceases as you enter.

You enter, you gather; together we take the outside in.

Come in.

But now, if there is any speaking left,

so it speaks.

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