This Other Thing 2

This other thing I have going on other than life- this little existential sideline- cannot be fully explained to you but I will persist in marking out its key features. I realise, of course, that because everything I describe can only be grasped metaphorically I could, perhaps, put each word in inverted commas- yes everything in inverted commas, for this other existence, and I even hesitate to use the word existence, is the very meat of the so-called, fleshed out in endless reams of possiblity. I say possibilty because it, this other thing, is the vast or endless realm of possibility where blue is beyond blue, and yellow tapers into a ringing sound of a million bells whose golden sheaths glisten so bright that hearts, if they may be called so, start to hum, not a bassy, vaguely ironic hum of life but a hum which yields little moons, moons that compose the quiet sermon of all your dreams.