It is just the Sun when we see a day, It's deep dark otherwise outside. There are no paths but just the distances, Traversing which the light too gets tired. They want to conquer territories on land, Unaware of the great relams existing ahead, Relams of the four dimensional reality, Reality that can't be perceived by their intellect. Misconception exists of them being the only one, In a scale of distance beyond their perception, Just like a tiny drop of water, In a huge army of big and black clouds. The universe which is filled with celestial and mysteries, Of which even the Time is a mere hand, Untouched by the reach of their vision, With unimaginable biospheres beyond their waters and sand. Yes it is all novel and dark in the cosmos, But the stars and fire standing still glorifies that, A novelty that they would never get to know, The knowledge that is impossible to even imagine. Imagination is the key to the knowledge, That key could be...
There is a sense of conventionality in linearity. A polygon, when exceeds 22 sides becomes a circle. An idea, when loses conventionality becomes curved - smooth, free, universal yet unconventional.