particlezen

He picked up the shell and held it to his ear. From within came the music of the spheres, the sound of a fractal universe spiralling into infinity, forever bound in its golden ratio. He held it in his palm and knew his place, how he was at once a singularity within the sacred pattern of all that is, a single thought, and yet still he was the mind of all things, dreaming worlds into being. A small god within a god, a tiny prism of [b]imagination[/b], constructing realities.