I had not yet begun to breathe, Wasn't even within myself. But I saw a flesh cut-out shaped like a body pulled taught at each extremity by stone clamps. But they weren't stone. They were not reflective.

From some kind of groundspherical, cut off every ninety degrees, I watched still as the flattened star-like figure was spun about, frozen and burned, not within but just before a heavenly morass, set as if on display, which sunk back as far as I was aware.

There was laughter, a rippling energy, that distorted physicality. It jumped and rolled and crouched feigning ballet. I remember, it took the skin at a place of five points and it buckled in on itself.

You could have seen the force as well. It distorted things, bent and reshaped them through itself. It was not unlike water.

The whole act was a disgusting display of mock power. So I took leave, freeing myself of the sphere which collapsed inward at my departure.

From out the collapse shot a ringing flux that took as my propulsion. The sphere, where it fell in, held a Parabola likeness fluctuating greater to lesser with a billion reaching fingers; it deepened unendingly.

Where the sphere fell out the ringing flux bent an Involute form.

I saw no point of transition between the curves but a gateway was undeniable. Somewhere within the morass was a channel, a conduit linking the Parabola and Involute.

Undeniable why? For on the Involute side, matter had taken recourse and second guessed itself like a cresting wave never crashing. The Involute from this side pulsed and moved making of itself a translucent candle melting in rather than down so to always be as it was when first lit, preserving the flame.

It bathed me in warmth. But on this side all created was of Dark Matter. I felt it so across my backside and upon any side unable to face the voltaic passages' emanation.

My original source, the Parabola side, was alive, illuminating such that now in sudden presence of Dark I was forced to face away for fear of burning on sight. It was white beyond white, magnificence beyond all magnificent in a way only perceivable by one who existed within a superlative construct unaware of its immaculate artistry; as I had done. Soon though, as all things, I was felled and humbled.

Had I the strength, I would have reached the span of Twenty Heavens to touch it. But strength, all sense of movement and ability, eluded me. It was the Dark Matter who's vehement need for conductive dynamism and essential energy is driven only by its greater need to expand.