I stopped believing in God and everything became depressingly real

I forgot the single most fundamental thing I feel

That I am conscious before all else I do

Infinity's too big for atheism to be true

Except at the level above God

Before that One Creator split into all the smaller ones

After that one finishes experiencing all that It can be

The I exploring Pi in fractal eternity

Past the end

Under the beginning,

The dot without dimension, form or consciousness

Without even the idea of itself as a shape

The idea of idea-less-ness, with noone to think it

The thought can't be thunk; there's no way to link it

From the previous thought, because that was about something

As Operation Ivy taught us, all we know is that we don't know nuthin'

Let's move outwards a level, from the impossibly absolute zero

I'm not talking about Yahweh, although he's a lotta folk's hero

The first thing to think, the thing that thinks all of us

Consciousness itself, sensing itself in every direction

In a multidimensional circle

Looking back at Itself, Ourself, I's self

I stared into I's reflection, trying out all I's faces

I found I could contain universes of worlds in I's projected imagination

I quantumly tried out all possibility

The ones that made sense happened with a higher probability

A singular aspect of I forgot that I was not;

The part that got to see the reflection

I, Lucifer, the bringer of Light, the opposite to the centre

The belief in the “real”, worship of material

Within the vesica piscis illusion

I, Yahweh happened when I began to talk,

The original sound'n'light wave

I AM, I AM, IAM

Manifest as vibration

Every planck frame gliding between instants

Every dot of space travelling the planck distance

I, Time, the line, the journey from the edge

To the centre, from the centre to the edge,

The movement from dot to dot,

The division of the Yin and Yang

But the line is actually a circle,

It's just perpendicular to the angle I see it from

Because time goes round and round and round

In moments that go round and round and round

In every possible length of round, of round

The universe loops infinitely

This aeon loops infinitely

This year loops infinitely

This week loops infinitely

This minute loops infinitely

This second loops infinitely

This moment loops infinitely

This instant loops infinitely

But that doesn't make such a good story

So I send little snakes of I out into Akasha

To guzzle up and hold on to the sensation in moments

Building bodies out of memories

Forming identities from how we tell our stories

I forget so I can remember but I forget to remember

And the world has all I need for a while