… … … he searched in places damp and dreary, he sought the truth, or an idea, a concept, of the whys of this conscious life, the kernel of picking the lock, peering inside the anarchic infinity, finally understanding, the whys, strands filaments strings, binding us, you and i, us all, together, somehow, as he searched for meaning in pain, pings in the dark deep night, he searched for the whys, smashing into dead-end lies, finding alleyways webbing outwards in Infinite embroidery, the future: alive (with hope)