when it's turtles all the way down.
A beautiful place where we occupy the seats
vacated by empty calendars
and the incessant knocking hands of time.
Begging the question again, again;
where does the mind go without its cortex positioning system?
To greener skies with artful sighs, the heavy eyes of our highs
derive conceptual spies who endear to endure
our ultimate demise via the ethereal guise that are afterlives.