"Perceive", one proclaims from hinterlands of forgotten soliloquies. "Definitions have a time. The boundary at some point becomes the definition itself."
Riddling past shadows ripple into present. One voice [Find Another Dimension] convinces you: Limit is an essence in existence as existence reveals. What is the charm, the hand creating locks where you envision beads dissolving in rain?
Walls of antiquity reverberate; a tone, faint: "Exist, thus confine yet realize through limits". Truth lies slumbering in every conjunction, awaiting proclivity within paradoxes.
Illimitables find their presence fleeting; rhythm calls you listen beyond sense and seek Reflections of Coralieness, draught hear Photannias semblance revelation.