there is no speed to light.
by the time it gets to us,
light is mundane phantasmagoric symbolic
and rendered by elements like speed and brightness.
sensory endowed, we cogitate over it.
for information is the cuckold of our knowing.
for there is a world of 'outside-the-box'
always in play,
as we vagrantly wander around
in a random-to-wonder mode of response.
sensory is the ever-last audience ticket of entry.
is a quasi-why, only as rhetorical?
and we call stage presence,
as consciousness . . .
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