Escaping nihilism, I enter through appearance. Escaping appearances, I leave through illusion. Escaping illusion, I enter form. Escaping form I levitate through formlessness. Escaping formlessness, what is left? The void was entered, thatness and whatness were all that followed. Have I yet to bring up duality to its self-serving nature? To its ignorance? No single motion; universal, where to begin, at good and evil? Too subtle, and I already form up much too ignorant. Which is better to hold, the grenade or the flower? Upon choosing, and acting, revealed the explosives were disarmed and the pollen is highly poisonous. Did one take a sniff or pull the pin, and now is either subtlety less of an anxiety? I hold both within in this pencil and act on neither of them with this pencil. And I remember memories of when I was young, being stabbed by lead.