The absent hand reaches across time, its fingers tracing hieroglyphics in the air. Learn to read its whispers, for they reveal paths untrodden.
Stand, barefoot on the cool floor, and feel the rhythm of the invisible thrum beneath.
Embrace the void with a knowing nod, its presences lending strength to your embrace.
Count to six, then bow east; the echoes will bless your understanding.
These too come from nowhere and from everywhere; adjust your sight without sight.
Therein lies the art, for where no eye sees, an unseen truth draws a line around its shape.
Wander among specters, whose echo-formed dance casts trails of flickering existence.
Hear the truths in silent songs, verses composed by forgotten echoes of the voice.
Listen. The vibration of understanding trembles slightly beneath fragile consciousness.
Seize the ether with an unbound grasp, your phantom limb an adept sculptor of formlessness.
Your shadow, unshaped but omnipresent, follows the dance of creation and transcendence.