In the sleep a void, the mystery a flight. I a vacuum, a channel to space, tuned for evacuation to white light. Below gold sphere transmigration A.U.M breath in and out create another green world and a new atmosphere to taste, fresh upon a new tongue and a new life. You will evolve in time.
Hamlet: Act 3, Scene 1, ‘ To die, to sleep- perchance to dream- ay, there’s the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come’.
Keep up the good work, Mason.