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She could sense everything
Throughout the aether
From ear to eternity’s horizon,
To the Empyrian Gate.

And consequently . . .

She heard a great deal of nothing.

Filtering forinsecal layers,
The wanted from the superfluous,
Entailed cogitations upon all time brought:
That which has ever been, or will be.

And consequently . . .

She thought on a great deal of nothing.

The expansile view from her omniscient crow’s nest
Encompassed multifarious universes,
Affording her bird’s eye a diorama of
Every umbral nook and cranny.

And consequently . . .

She saw a great deal of nothing.

She could reach out and touch
Each meandering Daedalean mote,
Every extant loitering atom,
And therefore embrace all that lay between them.

And consequently . . .

She felt a great deal of nothing.

She loved possibilities legion
Across the unfurling, immeasurable
Continuum of the multiverse,
Yet nothing held her captive like the stroke of his pen.

And that really was . . .

Quite something.